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ELEMENTARY 



MOBAL LESSONS, 



SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES. 



BY 

M. F. COWDERY, 

SUPERINTENDENT OF PUBLIC SCHOOLS, SANDUSKY, OHIO. 



The Good alone are Great. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
H. COWPERTHWAIT & CO, 

185G. 



^:s\o^^ 



^^ 



x^^"^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 
M. F. COWDERY, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for 
the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 

STEBEOTTPED BY J. FAGAJf PRINTED BY SMITQ & PETERS. 



PREFACE. 



In the preparation of a series of volumes on Moral 
Instruction for the use of classes in schools, the follow- 
ing positions are assumed : 

Pirst — That an important department of education 
— that which relates to social duties and moral obliga- 
tions — is at present, to a large extent, neglected. 

Second — That, in conducting the work of moral cul- 
ture with children, important principles and precepts 
need illustration and exemplification by real and sup- 
posed instances of conformity to them, or departure 
from them, as well as, and as much as, propositions in 
mathematics, or the other sciences. 

It would be quite an uninteresting, if not a repulsive 

exercise, for the teacher to assure and re-assure his 

pupils that the "product of the means would always 

equal the product of the extremes" in a proportion, 

and then leave them to grope their way through the 

(iii) 



IV PREFACE. 

application of the principle without further illustration 
or aid from the skill and resources of the teacher, or 

from the storehouse of human wisdom. 

* 

Is it any more rational to teach, or rather, to tell a 
child, that "virtue leads to happiness," or that "sin- 
cerity and truth form the basis of every virtue," and 
then leave him to ascertain the truth of these proposi- 
tions by bitter experience, and perhaps, a life of disap- 
pointment, humiliation and sorrow ? Is it not better to 
present to the intellect and to the sensibilities of a child, 
during all the early years of his life, such rich, varied, 
living exemplifications of specific virtues, as shall lead 
him to love, and aid him to practise, the same virtues? 

Third — Reason and experience unite in demanding 
that moral culture for the child, the youth, or the adult, 
should receive a portion of time and attention every 
DAY. It would be quite appropriate, also, to add, that 
this labor should stand first in the order of importance, 
that the highest skill of the teacher should be expended 
here, and that parents, school authorities and society, 
should unite in demanding of every teacher both perso- 
nal moral worth, and the ability to promote the growth 
of the moral nature of others, as a prc-requisite to all 
other qualities and attainments in his profession as a 
teacher. 



PREFACE. V 

Fourth — It is assumed and thoroughly believed, that 
moral culture, to such an extent as to enlist the sympa- 
thies, form the early sentiments, and, in a great degree 
to control the motives and conduct, is entirely practi- 
cable in a regular course of Common School instruction. 
The objections which are supposed to exist to the intro- 
duction of this subject to all classes of pupils, have little 
or no foundation in reality. The difficulty lies in the 
want of proper love for the subject, or the requisite 
skill, or the necessary prudence, or the proper aids in 
this work, on the part of the teacher. It is claimed 
that a text-hook, and preparation of lessons, and a regu- 
lar time for recitation, are as necessary here as in arith- 
metic. Any instruction given upon important subjects, 
should be regular and systematic. Why should it not 
be so in moral instruction ? 

The present volume is intended to aid teachers in a 
general p)resentation of those common virtues and du- 
ties which require very early attention. It is also in- 
tended as an introduction to a more full discussion and 
a more close practical application of right principles to 
' motives and conduct, in two subsequent volumes. 

It is recommended that, in addition to the regular 
preparation of each lesson by the pupil, that the narra- 
tives should be occasionally read by the class, or, what 



VI PREFACE. 

is usually still better, that some pupil, or pupils, be se- 
lected to give from memory, the principal incidents of 
each of the narratives introduced. The sympathies 
thereby awakened, and the general impression made, 
"will often, in this way, be considerably increased. 

It will, of course, be presumed, that the thoughtful 
teacher will present other questions than such as may 
be found in the book, and, thereby, more completely 
adapt instruction to the wants and capacities of his or 
her pupils. 

It would be highly gratifying to the author to be able 
to give proper credits for all the narratives introduced 
in the present volume, but as they have been selected 
from a great variety of sources, during several years 
of reading and experience, and, in many cases, where 
the original source could not be well ascertained, the 
credits are, principally omitted. 

Sanduskt, March 1, 1856. 



1 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

PREFACE, 3 

Lesson I. Do unto others as you would have others do to you, 9 

II. Repay all injuries with kindness, . . . 19 

III. A little wrong done to another is great wrong done 

to ourselves, ....... 28 

IV. The noblest courage is the courage to do right . 35 
V. Be slow to promise, but sure to perform . . 44 

VI. Honor thy father and thy mother ... 51 

VII. Think the truth, — speak the truth, — act the truth, 62 

VIII. Do good to all as you have opportunity, . . 71 

IX. Speak evil of no one, 79 

X. Carefully listen to conscience, and always obey its 

commands, ....... 87 

XI. We must forgive all injuries as we hope to be for- 
given, 96 

XII. Learn to help one another, 105 

XIII. The greatest conqueror is the self-conqueror, . 112 

XIV. Swear not at all, 119 

XV. Be faithful to every trust, . . . . 123 

XVI. Be neat, 130 

XVII. Right actions should spring from right motives . 135 

XVIII. Labor conquers all things, 143 

XIX. Be honest in "little things," upright in all things 152 

XX. A person is known by the company he keeps, . 160 

(vii) 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

XXI. Learn to deny yourself, 166 

XXII. Live usefully . 176 

XXIII. Be kind to the unfortunate, 186 

XXIV. Do right and fear not, . . / . . 197 
XXV. Be patient and hopeful, 204 

XXVI. Be merciful to animals 210 

XXVII. It is better to suffer wrong than to do wrong, . 215 

XXVIII. It is more blessed to give than to receive, . 223 

XXIX. Think no thoughts that you would blush to express 

in words, 231 

XXX. Live innocently if you would live happily, . . 237 

XXXI. We must learn to love others as we love ourselves, 245 

XXXII. The good alone are great, 254 



ELEMENTARY MORAL LESSONS. 



LESSON I. 



DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD HAVE OTHERS 
DO TO YOU. 

NARRATIVE, 

Noble Conduct. — A correspondent of tlie Blair County 
(Pa.) Whig, furnishes that paper with the particulars of the 
following interesting incident, of which he was an eye-witness. 
It occurred a few years ago on the line of the great internal 
improvements of that State. It is one of those scenes of 
genuine kind-heartedness which fill the mind with the in- 
voluntary consciousness that there is '^ something of the angel 
still in our common nature.^' 

At the point this side of the mountain, where occurred 
the transhipment of passengers from the West, was moored 
a canal-boat, awaiting the arrival of the train ere starting on 
its way through to the East. The captain of the boat, a tall, 
rough, sun-embrowned man, stood by his craft, superintend- 
ing the labors of his men, when the cars rolled up, and a few 
minutes after a party of about half a dozen gentlemen came 
out, and deliberately walking up to the captain, addressed 
him something after this wise : 

''Sir, we wish to go on east, but our farther progress 
to-day depends on you. In the cars we have just left a sick 
man, whose presence is disagreeable. VTe have been ap- 
pointed a committee by the passengers to ask that you will 

CO) 



10 DUTY TO OTHERS. 

deny this man a passage in your boat. If he goes, we re- 
main ; what say you ?" 

'' Gentlemen/^ replied the captain, " I have heard the 
passengers through their committee. Has the sick man a 
representative here ?" 

To this unexpected interrogatory there was no answer; 
when, without a moment's pause, the captain crossed over to 
the car, and entering, beheld in one corner a poor, emaciated, 
worn-out creature, whose life was nearly eaten up by that 
canker-worm, consumption. The man's head was bowed in 
his hands, and he was weeping. The captain advanced and 
spoke to him kindly. 

" Oh ! sir," said the shivering invalid, looking up, his face 
now lit with trembling expectations, ^'are you the captain, 
and will you take me ? God help me ! The passengers look 
upon me as a breathing pestilence, and are so unkind ! You 
see, sir, I am dying j but oh ! if I am spared to reach my 
mother, I shall die happy. She lives in Burlington, sir, and 
my journey is more than half performed. I am a poor 
painter, and the only child of her in whose arms I wish to 
die!'' 

^' You shall go," replied the captain, "if Hose every other 
passenger for the trip." 

By this time the whole crowd of passengers were grouped 
around the boat, with their baggage piled on the path, and 
they themselves awaiting the decision of the captain before 
engaging their passage. 

A moment more and that decision was made known, as 
they beheld him coming from the cars with the sick man 
cradled in his arms. Pushing directly through the crowd 
with his dying burden, he ordered a mattress to be spread in 
the choicest part of the boat, where he laid the invalid with 
all the care of a parent. That done, the captain directed the 
boat to be prepared for starting. 

But a new feeling seemed to possess the astonished passen- 



DUTY TO OTHERS. 11 

gers — that of shame and contrition at their inhumanity. 
With one common impulse they walked aboard the boat, and 
in a few hours after, another committee was sent to the cap- 
tain, entreating his presence among the passengers in the 
cabin. 

He went, and from their midst there arose a white-haired 
man, who with tear-drops starting in his eyes, told that rough, 
sun-embrowned man that he had taught them a lesson, that 
they felt humbled before him, and they asked his forgiveness. 
It was a touching scene. The fountain of true sympathy 
was broken up in the heart of nature, and its waters welled 
up, choking the utterance of all present. 

On the instant a purse was made up for the sick man, with 
a " God speed'^ on his way home, to die in the arms of his 
mother. 



> 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. When it was known that there was a sick man in the cars, as 
stated in the preceding narrative, how ought the other passengers 
to have treated him ? 

2. Knowing that the sick man was very feeble, and, apparently, 
very poor, was any thing more required of the other passengers than 
to refrain from speaking or acting unkindly ? 

3. If some of the passengers had spoken kindly to the sick man 
while on the cars, if others had offered to take his arm when going 
to the boat, and others had offered to carry his carpet-bag of clothing, 
and others, still, had offered to pay a part or all of his travelling 
expenses, would the pleasure have been as great and as lasting as 
any satisfaction arising from having got rid of an unpleasant travel- 
ling companion. 

4. Perhaps there were some among the passengers who did not 
have much to say for the sick man or against him, being ready simply 
to agree with the majority. — Would such, if there were any, deserve 
much blame ? 

5. Could the persons who treated the sick man unkindly ever re- 
member their journey on that occasion with any degree of pleasure ? 



12 DUTY TO OTHERS. 

Could those -who treated him with indifference and neglect remember 
their conduct with satisfaction ? 

6. Did it probably give the Captain pleasure to carry the sick man 
in his arms to the boat? Could he afterwards think of this act of 
kindness with satisfjiction ? How long would the recollection of this 
act of duty afford satisfaction to the Captain? 

7. But possibly the captain himself was a poor man, in need of all 
the money he could make by the trip to pay his necessary expenses. 
Under such circumstances, what would you advise a captain to do, 
if passengers refused to ride with him if he carried a sick man? 

• 8. Suppose the captain, instead of taking the sick man in his arms 
and placing him in the best part of his own boat, had gone to the 
cars and given him ten dollars to pay his passage in the next boat, 
and then taken the passengers and made two hundred and fifty dol- 
lars by the trip ; would you think as well of such a course as the 
one the captain did pursue ? 

9. If you had been the captain of the boat, and the sick man in 
the cars had been your own brother, would you have felt that you 
had done your duty if you had handed him twenty dollars to pay 
his expenses home on the next boat, while you were making two hun- 
dred dollars in carrying a boat-load of passengers who refused to 
ride in the same boat with him ? 

10. In which case would you think the obligation the stronger; 
to show kind attentions to a sick man, to a stranger, as the captain 
did, or to an acquaintance ? 

11. The captain acted nobly in the case of the sick man. Did he 
do any more than was his duty ? 

12. Do persons always act nobly when they do their duty well, or 
is it only for doing duty on particular occasions that persons deserve 
credit for acting well ? 

13. Which is better, to learn to love to do our duty by our own 
constant efforts, or be shamed into doing it, as the passengers were 
by the noble example of the captain ? 



NARRATIVE. 

In one of our large cities, recently, a mechanic, in going to 
his work, had occasion to pass a group of ragged immigrants, 
just landed from a British ship. They appeared forlorn and 
destitute. They made no appeal for assistance, but sat silent 



DUTY TO OTUERS. 13 

on the side-walk, in their misery and squalor. The mechanic 
regarded them for a moment, and then, as if seized by a sud- 
den impulse, drew his dinner, wrapped in an old newspaper, 
from his pocket, and gave it to a woman who crouched near 
him, to divide amongst her children. He did not wait for 
thanks, but hurried off. The rich, when they give, we 
thought, give of their abundance; the poor help the poor 
from their own sustenance. But there is One who said, " In- 
asmuch as ye have done it unto these little ones, ye have 
done it unto me — Verily, I say unto you, ye shall in no wise 
lose your reward.'' 



14. Which would you think the more praise-Tvorthy act, for a rich 
man in passing to give a poor woman three dollars, or for the 
mechanic to give the same woman his dinner, as stated in the pre- 
ceding narrative ? 

15. Do you think of any other methods of aiding those immigrant 
strangers besides giving them money and provisions ? Would it do 
any good to speak Idndly to them ? 

16. If you were a stranger, and poor, in a foreign land, which 
would you value the more highly, presents of money and provisions, 
or kind attention, good advice, and aid in finding employment ? 

17. Which is more highly important to us, that y^Q frequently help 
others liberally, or that we always feel willing to help all we can? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Generous Neighbor. — A fire having broken out in 
a certain village of Denmark, one of the inhabitants, a poor 
man, was very active in affording assistance; but every 
endeavor to extinguish the flames was in vain. At length he 
was told that his own house was in danger from the 
flames, and that if he wished to save his furniture not a 
moment was to be lost.'' ^' There is something more pre- 



14 DUTY TO OTHERS. 

cious,'^ replied he, '■'■ that I must first save. My poor sick 
neighbor is not able to save himself; he will be lost if I do 
not assist him ; I am sure he relies on me." He flew to his 
neighbor's house, rushed at once at the hazard of his life 
through the flames and conveyed the sick man in his arms to 
a place of safety. A society at Copenhagen showed their 
approbation of his conduct by presenting him with a silver 
cup, filled with Danish crowns. 



18. Which did the Dane, in the preceding narrative, seem to love 
the better to do, to save money or property to himself, or to help 
others ? 

19. Which, probably, afforded him the purer pleasure, the con- 
sciousness of having saved the life of his sick neighbor, or the *' silver 
cup filled with Danish crowns ?" 

20. If fifty persons, some rich and some poor, some old and some 
young, were standing near, where a person was suffering from cold, 
or sickness, or hunger or accident, whose duty would it be to help 
such a sufferer ? 

21. What "golden rule" of conduct should persons observe, in 
order to determine how much attention and kindness should be shown 
to a suffering stranger ? 

22. May any class of persons, either on account of their superior 
advantages, or on account of their poverty or misfortune, be excused 
from the practice of the rule — "do unto others as you would have 
others do to you?" Are children under obligation to practise this 
rule? 

23. Children sometimes meet with those who have had less ad- 
vantages for instruction, for a pleasant home and kind friends than 
they themselves have had ; what sort of treatment would you think 
due from such children to those less fortunate ? 



NARRATIVE. 



Poor Boy ! — We said this on Sunday evening as we came 
down Broadway. We have said it twenty times since that, 



DUTY TO OTHERS. 15 

aloud, and five times twenty mentally, we have repeated those 
two words, '' Poor Boy I" They are little words, common 
words, only seven letters, easily spoken, often spoken, yet 
they have a great deal of meaning — painful meaning some- 
times. They had on Sunday night. They often tell a whole 
story. They did in the present case. This is it. 

Our ear was first attracted by a little hum of voices, voices 
of boys, singing a march : it was the Kogue's March. What 
could it be for? We looked and listened. Half a dozen 
boys with sticks, imitating those children who carry guns — 
one had tied his handkerchief to imitate a flag — were singing 
and marching behind another boy. He was about twelve 
years old and carried a bundle in his hand, tied in a common 
cotton handkerchief, such as we carried when about the 
same age. His dress said, as plain as his language, " I am 
just from the country. '^ His tormentors, for such they were, 
were in high glee. Their glee made us sad, and we said, 
^' Poor Boy I" and walked away. We could not go on, so we 
went back. The poor boy had stopped to remonstrate with 
his persecutors. 

" What do you want to follow me singing that ar for ? I 
wish you would let me alone. I hain't done nothing to you." 

^' Ain't that rich, boys ? Hurrah for greeny !" 

We cried " poor boy !" again, and then we told the boys 
they should not torment the poor boy, and asked " what they 
did it for ?" '' 'Cause he has no spunk. Why don't he show 
fight. He's a greeny." Yes, he was green. That was 
enough for the city boys, well-dressed boys of parents whom 
no one would dare to say were not "respectable." Could 
they say themselves, that it was respectable to let their boys 
run in the streets on the Sabbath, singing and marching like 
wild young savages, after a poor boy from the country, whose 
only fault was that he had not yet learned to be as wicked as 
themselves — he was green — he would not fight. He did not 
look like a fighting boy; his face was a mild pleasant one; 



16 DUTY TO OTHERS. 

rather pensive, and he had a soft blue eye. But he was green. 
He had been green enough to sit down upon a door-sfcep to 
rest his tired limbs, and that was enough to draw a crowd of 
idle boys around him with their jibes and jeers, and insulting 
and provoking remarks upon his appearance, his homespun 
coat, and unfashionably cut garments; and when he replied 
and told them to go away and let him alone, they set up a 
shout of derision at his countryfied language. Then he got 
"up and thought he would walk away, and so get clear of them, 
but he could not shake them off. Poor boy ! he had left his 
country home among the mountains of Northern New York, 
to seek his fortune in the city; and this was the first fortune 
he had met with. It was an unkindly welcome. We drew 
him aside and questioned him why he had come to the city. 
" I came because I had read so much in the newspapers about 
the prosperity of the city, and how every body gets great 
wages and money right down every week; and I thought that 
it was a good place for me, as I was poor, and my mother was 
poor, and I wanted to try and do something to get a home for 
her and me too. Now I have got here, I don't know what to 
do, or where to stay all night. I have been walking all 
through town till I am dreadful tired, and I have not seen a 
single tavern sign. Can you tell me where to find one ?" Wo 
told him where to go to find a plain lodging place, and advised 
him to turn his face northward in the morning. Go back to 
the country ; poor boy, he is green in the city, and not dis- 
posed to fight his way through life, so he must go back to the 
country. He always will be a poor boy here. 



24. If either of the city boys, spoken of in the preceding narrative, 
had been visiting in a strange city, or in a foi'eign land, in what 
manner would they have wished to be treated by others ? 

25. If the city boys had tried, anxiously, to observe the golden 
rule with tlie boy who came from the country, what would they have 
said and done instead of singing the " Rogue's ISIarch" around him? 



DUTY TO OTHERS. 17 

26. Knowing, as they well did, that the boy was poor and friend- 
less, would it have been right for each boy to have passed him in the 
street without saying or doing any thing to him ? 

27. If they had all united in speaking kindly to this country boy, 
and assisted him in finding a comfortable home for the night, and 
had further assisted him in looking for employment on the following 
day; do you think the pleasure would have been "as rich" as that 
of shouting " hurrah for greeny'?'^ 

28. Which of the two courses of conduct do you think could be 
longer remembered with satisfaction ? 

29. Whose conduct do you think deserving the severer censure, 
that of the men who neglected and insulted the sick man in the cars, 
or that of the boys who insulted and tormented the poor boy from 
the country ? 

30. Whose conduct do you think deserving the greater credit, that 
of the captain of the boat, or that of the man who befriended the 
poor boy in the city ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR GENERAL AND SPECIAL REYIEW. 

1. If you never do any body any harm, do you think you will 
ever deserve any hlame ^ 

2. But is it not as much our duty to do some real good to others 
as it is to refrain from doing them evil ? 

3. If you should see a little child fall into deep water, and be in 
danger of being drowned, would you be deserving of blame if you 
did not try to save it ? 

4. If you were to see a man's house taking fire, would you be ex- 
cusable if you did not try to put it out yourself, or notify others of 
the danger ? 

5. Then when we see any class of unfortunate persons around us, 
are we free from all blame if we do not care for them or try to aid 
them? 

6. But instead of caring for such, what would you think of the 
practice of making $;port of the ignorant, or of the lame or the 
bUnd? 

2* 



18 DUTY TO OTHERS. 

7. In the case of any class of unfortunate persons, -with how 
much less tenderness and attention may you treat a stranger or 
an enemy than a brother or a sister in the same circumstances? 

8. Suppose that, in passing through your neighbor's gate, you 
should accidentally break the latch, or the hinges, and no one should 
see you, what ought you to do in such a case ? 

9. If you had borrowed your neighbor's wheelbarrow, and, in 
using it, should break it in a place which loould not be very easily seen, 
what should you think right to be done ? 

10. If, in passing through your neighbor's field or garden alone, 
you should carelessly leave his gate open, and cattle or hogs should 
come in and destroy his corn, or his garden, what would you think 
it your duty to do, supposing that no, one but yourself knew how the 
gate happened to be left open ? 

11. If you should tell your companions that you were very sure a 
certain boy had stolen your silver pencil, and afterwards you should 
find that it had not been stolen at all, what ought you to do ? 

12. If you thought any one of your associates was neglected or 
abused, because he or she did not appear quite so well, every way, as 
others, how ought you to act? 

13. Our brothers, or sisters, or friends, are sometimes helpless 
and dependent from sickness or accident, and sometimes so for life ; 
what rule of conduct should we always observe toward such relatives 
or fi'iends ? 

14. If a younger brother was not in good health, and you knew 
that fruit would endanger his health or his life, would it be right to 
give him fruit if he should ask for it ? 

15. Suppose your brother should offer to pay you very liberally if 
you would let him have fruit, would it be right to sell it to him, if 
you felt sure that it would injure his health? 

IG. Instead of being yo^cr brother, suppose that one of your asso- 
ciates was in the same circumstances, would it be right to give or 
sell him fruit if you felt certain that it would endanger his health or 
his life ? 

17. Instead of being an associate, suppose a stranger or an enemy 
to be in the same circumstances, what would be your duty ? 

18. When you feel at a loss in any manner to know how you 
ought to treat others, what rule will always aid you to determine ? 



I 



LESSOlSr II. 

REPAY ALL INJURIES WITH KINDNESS. 
NARRATIVE. 

The Power of Love. — The Colony of Petitbourg, in 
France, is an establishment for the reformation of juvenile 
offenders — for instruction of abandoned children (boys) who 
are found without any parental care, wandering about the 
streets of Paris. It is supported by voluntary contributions. 
The boys are taught all sorts of out-door and in-door work, 
and have regular seasons of recreation. When any one com- 
mits a fault requiring grave punishment, the whole of the 
boys are assembled, as a sort of council, to deliberate and 
decide on the kind of punishment to be inflicted, which con- 
sists usually of imprisonment in a dungeon for a number of 
days, and, of course, no participation in the recreations of the 
community. 

There are at present 130 boys in the institution. Now, here 
is the peculiarity of the discipline. After sentence is passed 
by the boys under the approval of the director, the question 
is then put, " Will any of you consent to become the patron 
of this offender, that is, to take his place now and suffer in 
his room and stead, while he goes free 1" And it rarely 
happens but that some one is found ready to step forward and 
consent to ransom the offender, by undergoing his punishment 
for him — the offender being in that case merely obliged to 
act as porter in carrying to his substitute in the dungeon his 
allowance of bread and water, during all the time of his cap- 
tivity. The effect has been the breaking of the most obdurate 
hearts of the boys, by seeing another actually enduring, 
willingly, what they have deserved to suffer. 

A remarkable case occurred lately. A boy whose violent 

(19) 



20 REPAY INJURY WITH KINDNESS. 

temper and bad conduct had procured his expulsion from 
several schools in Paris, and who was in a fair way of becoming 
an outlaw and terror to all good people, was received into the 
institution. For a time the novelty of the scene, the society, 
and the occupation, seemed to have subdued his temper; but 
at length his evil disposition showed itself, by his draw- 
ing a knife on a boy with whom he had quarrelled, and stab- 
bing him in the breast. The wound was severe but not 
mortal; and while the bleeding boy was carried to the 
hospital, the rest of the inmates were summoned to decide 
on the fate of the criminal. They agreed at once in a sen- 
tence of instant expulsion, without hope of re-admission. The 
director opposed this, and showed them that such a course would 
lead this poor desperate boy to the scaifold and the galleys. 
He bade them think of another punishment. They fixed 
upon imprisonment for an unlimited period. The usual 
question was put, but no patron offered himself, and the 
culprit was marched off to prison. 

After some days, the director reminded the boys of the 
case, and on a repetition of the call, " Will no one become 
the patron of this unhappy youth ?" a voice was heard, " I 
will !" The astonished boys looked around and saw coming 
forward the very youth who had been wounded, and who had 
just been discharged from the sick ward. He went to. the 
dungeon and took the place of the would-be murderer, (for 
had this boy's physical strength been equal to his passion, 
the blow must have been fatal, both boys being only about 
nine or ten years old,) and it was only after the latter had 
for some time carried the pittance of food to his generous 
patron, and seen him still pale and feeble from the effects of 
his wound, suffering for him deprivation of light, and liberty, 
and joy, that his stout heart gave up, and he cast himself at 
the feet of the director, confessing and bewailing, with bitter 
tears, the wickedness of his heart, and expressing the resolu- 
tion to lead a different life for the time to come. Such a fact 
needs no comment. 



REPAY INJURY WITH KINDNESS. 21 

QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. In the narrative just given, what particular course of conduct 
conquered the boy who had stabbed his companion ? 

2. If the remaining boys, when they saw that their comipanion 
had been severely wounded, had all joined and chastised this reck- 
less boy severely, is it probable that they would have made a kind- 
hearted, honest boy of him ? 

3. Do you think the boy who was stabbed showed a truly courageous 
spirit in offering to take the place of his companion in prison ? 

4. Is it probable that the director of the institution and the com- 
panions of the boy who was stabbed, would feel ashamed of him for 
offering to take the place of the one who had so deeply injured him? 

5. When the question was asked the second time by the director, 
" who would take the place of the guilty boy in prison," was it the 
duty of the boy who had been injured to offer himself? Was it any 
more, or any less, his duty to do so on account of having received a 
severe injury from the boy in prison ? 

6. If some one of the other boys had taken the place of this reck- 
less boy in prison, would his proud spirit probably have been sub- 
dued just as well? 

7. If it had been well known beforehand by all the boys assem- 
bled, that a strong exhibition of kindness from the injured boy would 
certainly conquer this stubborn, desperate boy, would it have been 
the duty of any one to take his place in prison ? 

8. But as it was not known that kindness from any one would 
affect him, was it the duty of any one to show him kindness? 
Whose duty ? 

9. Which was better, that this very bad boy should be saved from 
ruin, be thoroughly subdued, and made kind and affectionate to his 
associates, or that the injured boy should allow himself to cherish 
feelings of resentment, indifference or neglect towards him ? 

10. Which, at last, was the happier boy, the one who conquered 
by kindness, or the one who was conquered ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Conquering with Kindness. — In one of the eastern 
States there were two farmers who lived near neighbors, and 
whose farms were side by side. One of these farmers was a 



22 



REPAY INJURY WITH KINDNESS. 



good man, of gentle disposition and inoffensive character. 
The character of the other was just the reverse of this. His 
temper was like tinder, taking fire at every spaik that came 
in his way. He hated his kind neighbor, more, perhaps, 
on account of his goodness than anything else. He was 
always vexing and tormenting the good man, quarrelling 
about mere trifles, as much as one can quarrel who has no 
one to quarrel with him. 



-ff 




One summer he had mowed down a good deal of grass, and 
had gone away from home, leaving it out in the field to 
dry. But while he was absent, there came up a storm of 
rain. While the clouds were gathering, the pious man saw 
the exposed condition of his neighbor's hay, and it struck him 
that there was a fine chance to show a good man's revenge, 
that is, to return good for evil. So he took with him his 
hired men, and got his-neighbor's hay all safely into the barn. 
Let us sec the result. 

When the quarrelsome man came home, expecting to see 
Lis hay all soaked by the rain, and found it had been taken 



REPAY INJURY AYITH KINDNESS. 23 

care of by the man he had so much injured, it cut him to the 
very core. From that hour the evil spirit was cast out of 
him. No more abuse did he give the good man after that ; 
but he became as obliging and kind to his pious neighbor as 
the latter had been to him. 



11. What particular course of conduct conquered the ill-tempered 
neighbor described in the foregoing narrative? 

12. If the kind man had watched for good opportunities to resent 
the injuries he so often received, what would have been the effect 
upon the quarrelsome neighbor? 

13. Did it show a want of manliness, in this kind neighbor, to do 
the man a favor who had so often vexed and injured him ? 

14. If, by resenting all the injuries this kind man had ever re- 
ceived, he could have entirely prevented his ill-tempered neighbor 
from securing any of his hay, or crops of grain, for the season, who 
would have been the better, thereby ? 

15. Who was the greater gainer in the course that was pursued, 
the kind neighbor, or the ill-tempered neighbor? 

16. I)id the kind neighbor do any more than was his duty to do ? 

17. If this good man, notwithstanding all the vexations caused 
and insults given him, had always spoken kindly to his neighbor, 
but had never sought a single occasion for doing him a favor, would 
he have deserved any blame ? 



NARRATIVE. 

A Merchant's Revenge. — Making haste to get rich 
leads the young man to violate the golden rule, and wounds 
his conscience. An illustration of this occurred some years 
since in one of the American cities. A. built a very exten- 
sive warehouse on his lot, and after it was completed, B , 
the next neighbor, discovered that it was two or three 
inches on his lot. A surveyor was sent for, and A. dis- 
covered his mistake, and freely offered B. a large sum, if he 
would permit the edifice to stand. B. knew that he had his 



24 REPAY INJURY WITH KINDNESS. 

wealthy neighbor in his power, therefore he seemed unwilling 
to sell the narrow gore for twenty times the value of the land. 
He only waited for a larger bribe to be offered, believing 
that before A. would pull down his warehouse, he would pay 
half its value. — But A. finding that B. was determined to be 
satisfied with nothing but extortion, began to pull down his 
noble building. Then he might have settled on his own 
terms, but he had no offer to make. The last foundation 
stone was removed. In order to avenge himself, A. ordered 
his builder to inin up the new edifice a couple of inches with- 
in his own line, and it was done ; and the noble building 
was again completed, A short time afterwards, B. commenced 
the erection of his splendid warehouse, directly against his 
neighbor's, and, of course, two inches over on the lot of A. 
The trap succeeded as he expected ; and after B.'s building 
was completed, and his friends were congratulating him on 
his noble warehouse, A. stepped up and informed B. that his 
edifice encroached on his land. B. laughed at the thought, 
for amid the rubbish and deep foundation, a couple of inches 
cannot be detected by the naked eye. 

A surveyor was sent for, and conceive the blank astonish- 
ment that filled the mind of B. when he found himself at the 
mercy of one he had so deeply wronged. — Then would have 
been the time for A. to have shown the sordid B. what a 
magnanimous heart could do ! How much better and nobler, 
and happier to pass by an insult ! It is the glory of the 
Christian to be able, willing, and eager to forgive an enemy. 
But A. was actuated by simple revenge, and that neighbor 
could name no sum at which he would even look. He offered 
him half the cost of the edifice, if he would sufier him to let 
it stand. No; he must pull it down, and down it came to 
the very foundation. This neighbor, placing the stone with- 
in his own line, and thus setting a snare, was as certainly 
guilty of falsehood as Ananias and Sapphira, although he 
had not said a word. For B. to take advantage of the unin- 



REPAY INJURY WITH KINDNESS. 25 

tentional mistake of his neighbor, and then endeavor to 
extort some thousands of dollars from him, was nothing but 
attempting a wholesale robbery. It is but the same thing in 
retail robbery, which prompts one to take advantage of an 
ignorant neighbor, or that neighbor's servant or child. 



18. In the last narrative, what greater victory could merchant A. 
have obtained over merchant B. than he did ? 

19. Did merchant A. make merchant B. his vyarm friend by the 
course he pursued ? 

20. Would merchant B. probably have taken another advantage 
of merchant A. if he had seen a good opportunity ? 

21. Did merchant A. conquer merchant B. by returning injury for 
injury ? Did merchant A. conquer himself? 

22. Which party was made the richer in the course that was pur- 
sued? — which party was made the better? — the happier? 

23. What was the duty of merchant A. in the foregoing case ? 
What was the duty of merchant B. ? 

24. Whose conduct do you the more admire, that of the poor boy 
who was stabbed, or that of the rich merchant A., who was first so 
much wronged by his neighbor, but who wronged him as much in 
return ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1, Have you ever heard of persons, or children, who sought to 
injure those who had injured them ? 

2. Is there any better course for us to pursue, when others do us 
an injury, than to do i\i.Qm just as great an injury, if we can ? What 
is it? 

8. If others do wrong to us, would it be right /or us to simply let 
such persons alone ? 

4. But, in simply letting them alone, would this show that we loved 
them ? 

5. Which would you think the more certain way to make your 
enemy become your friend — to do him an injury, or a kindness ? 



26 KEPAY INJURY WITH KINDNESS. 

6. How many injuries do you think it would be necessary to do 
to an enemy, to make him your friend ? 

7. How many kindnesses do you think it would require to make 
your enemy respect and love you ? 

8. Which do you think would give you the more pleasure, to con- 
quer yourself and your enemy too, by doing him kindnesses, or, to 
conquer neither yourself nor your enemy ^ by doing him injuries? 

9. Is it common for us to do good to those who do evil to us ? Is 
it easy for us ? Is it possible for us ? 

10. Suppose some one has wronged you very much, and for this 
you have three times done him a kindness, and he remains your enemy 
still ; ought you to try any more to make him your friend ? How 
many times do you think you ought to try? 

11. How many times do you think you would try with a brother 
or sister, or any one that you loved very much 9 

12. Suppose, in going home from school to-night, some boy should 
seize your hat or cap, and, intentionally, throw it into the water 
or mud, ho'^ do you think you would act? 

13. Suppose several boys should unite in calling you reproachful 
names for the purpose of irritating you ? How do you think you 
would act ? 

14. Do you think cf any kindnesses that could be practised upon 
such boys, that would make them ashamed and sorry for their con- 
duct? 

15. If you were to assist any, or each of them, the next day, in 
their work or their sports, or to give them some fruit, or were to 
invite them to visit you, and should be very careful to show them all 
the little attentions in your power, how long do you think they would 
abuse you ? 

IG. If you should, by trying every means you could think of, at 
last succeed in conquering such boys by your kindnesses, which do 
you think would be the more benefited, yourself ov the boys? 

17. Would it be right to do an enemy a kindness, simply for the 
purpose of gaining a triumph, and with no real desire of conferring 
a benefit upon him ? 

18. If those who are unfriendly or unkind to us are unfortunate 
in any manner, would it be right to rejoice at their misfortunes? 

19. In case those who are unfriendly to us seem to have no power, 
whatever, to injure us, may we feel quite indifferent whether we 
gain their friendship or not by showing them attention and kind- 
ness ? 



I 



REPAY INJURY WITH KINDNESS. 27 



LOVE YOUR ENEMIES. 

Angry looks can do no good, 

And blows are dealt in blindness; 

Words are better understood, 
If spoken but in kindness. 

Simple love far more hath wrought, 
Although by childhood muttered, 

Than all the battles ever fought, 
Or oaths that men have uttered. 



Friendship oft would longer last, 
And quarrels be prevented, 

If little words were let go past — 
Forgiven, not jesented. 

Foolish things are frowns and sneers, 
For angry thoughts reveal them; 

Esther drown them all in tears. 
Than let another feel them. 



LESSON III. 



A LITTLE WRONG DONE TO ANOTHER IS A GREAT 
WRONG DONE TO OURSELVES. 

NARRATIVE. 

" Deep Wounds." — When I was about twelve years of 
age — I remember it as though it were but yesterday — I one 
day got very angry with an older brother. I was angry, too, 
"without a cause.'" He had been the best of brothers to 
me ; but on this occasion he had refused to gratify my strong 
desire to have for my own a little book which I had seen him 
reading. I flew into a violent passion. I called him very 
bad names; and, although I can scarcely believe it, and only 
recollect it with grief and shame, I tore his clothes and tried 
to bite his arms. 

In a few weeks, and before my proud spirit was humble 
enough to ask his forgiveness, that brother left home never 
again to return. He went far away among strangers to 
sicken and die. I never saw him again. Oh ! how often 
have I wished that I might have been permitted to stand by 
that brother's death-bed and ask pardon for my foolish 
passion. Useless wish! Unavailing regret! — Even now, 
at this distance of time, whenever I recall the memory of that 
brother, and think of his kindness and love, the cup of 
pleasure is embittered by the dregs of remorse which the 
remembrance of that angry hour throws upon it. Alas ! the 
pangs of remorse gnawing my own spirit even now are far 
sharper than the teeth with which I would gladly have 
lacerated my brother's flesh. When I see that brother in 
my dreams, he wears that same look of astonishment and 
rebuke with which he then looked upon me. 

(28) 



wflONG NOT OTHERS. 29 

'^ A wounded spirit who can bear ?" ! if children and 
youth who speak angry words to their parents, and call their 
brothers hard names, only knew what a fearful burden of 
" wounded spirits " they are storing up, to press with moun- 
tain weight upon them in riper years^ they never would suffer 
an unkind or disrespectful word to pass their lips. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. In the narrative just given, did the boy who was angry do any 
severe bodily injury to his brother? 

2. Why did he feel so regretful for so long a time ? 

3. If the younger brother had received the ill treatment from his 
elder brother, instead of giviiig it, before the elder brother left home 
for the last time, do you think he would have experienced so much 
sorrow and anguish during the remainder of his life ? 

4. Which of the two brothers was probably the greater sufferer 
during the remainder of his life for this one wrong act of the 
younger brother? 

5. But, suppose the younger brother had really been penitent and 
received forgiveness from the elder brother, before he finally left 
home, would he have been able, at any time after, to think of his 
anger with pleasure ? 



ANOTHER EXAMPLE. 

Sir Walter Scott related the following incident of his own 
life to an intinaate friend : 

There was a boy in his class at school, who always stood 
at the top, nor could the utmost efforts of young Scott dis- 
place him. At length he observed, when a cjuestion was 
asked this boy, he always fumbled with his fingers at a par- 
ticular button on the lower part of his waistcoat; and the 
removal of this was, therefore, determined. The plot was 
executed, and succeeded too well. When the boy was again 
questioned, his fingers sought again for the button^ but it 



30 ^YRONG NOT OTHERS. 

could not be found. In his distress he looked down for it, 
but it was not to be seen. He stood confounded, and Scott 
took possession of his place, which he never recovered. The 
wrong thus done, was, however, attended, as it always must 
be, with pain. *' Often," said Scott, '' in after life, the sight 
of him smote me." Heartily did he wish that this unkind 
act had never been done. 

Let it constantly be remembered, that we are not left to 
act as we please j — the rule is of the highest authority : 
" Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye 
even so to them.'' 



- 6. In the case of Sir Walter Scott, just related, which probably 
was the greater suiferer, the boy who lost his position at the head 
of his class, or Sir Walter who gained it ? 

7. Why did the sight of the boy, ever in after life, give Sir Walter 
Scott so much pain ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Power of Conscience. — A few days since, as a gentle- 
man, a most respectable merchant residing in one of our 
eastern cities, was returning from his house to his counting- 
room, he was accosted in the street by a man who had been 
a sailor in his employ, who stated that he wanted to settle 
his account with him. The gentleman replied that he did 
not know that he had any account with him, or any knowledso 
of his person. The man then went on to state that, some ten 
years ago, he sailed in a brig belonging to the gentleman, 

called the XT 11 ; that during that voyage the crew 

purloined certain property from the owners, which was 
divided among their number, and that the proportion which 
he received amounted to between three and four dollars, which, 
with the interest, Avould now come to five dollars, which 



WRONG NOT OTHERS. 31 

sum he tendered to him, and begged his forgiveness. He 
had also taken a chisel, which he valued at fifty cents, making 
that amount more, which he also tendered. — The gentleman, 
with a suitable admonition, declined receiving restitution ; but 
the man declared that he could never be satisfied without paying 
the money, and that the relief to his mind would be ten times 
the value of the sum. It was consequently accepted, to the 
great satisfaction of the conscience-smitten delinquent. Let 
the fellow-participants in his crime '^go and do likewise. '^ 



8. In the foregoing case, is it probable that the sailor feared that 
he should be detected and arrested for stealing ? 

9. Might he have supposed that the merchant was poor, and in 
need of the property he had taken from him wrongfully? 

10. "What induced the sailor to seek out this merchant, confess 
his crime, and offer to pay for all the property he had taken ? 

11. When the merchant declined, at first, to receive restitution 
from the sailor, why did the latter still insist upon paying the full 
value of the property taken, with interest ? 

12. After the sailor had paid for the stolen property and been 
forgiven, is it probable that he could afterwards feel just as happy as 
if he had never stolen ? How long would this act of his life make 
him feel unhappy ? 

13. In the foregoing case, which was the greater sufferer, the rich 
merchant, or the sailor who stole his property? 



NARRATIVE. 

Nails in the Post. — There was once a farmer who had 
a son named John ; a boy very apt to be thoughtless, and 
careless as to doing what he was told to do. 

One day his father said to him, "John, you are so careless 
and forgetful, that every time you do wrong, I shall drive a 
nail into this post, to remind you how often you are naughty; 



32 WRONG NOT OTHERS. 

and every time you do right I will draw one out,'* His 
father did as he said he would, and every day he had one, 
and sometimes a great many nails to drive in, but very seldom 
one to draw out. 

At last John saw that the post was quite covered with 
nails, and he began to be ashamed of having so many faults; 
he resolved to be a better boy; and the next day he was 
so good and industrious that several nails came out; the day 
after it was the same thing, and so on for a long time, till at 
length only one nail remained. His father then called him, 
and said : '' Look, John, here is the very last nail, and now 
I'm going to draw this; are you not glad V* 

John looked at the post, and 'then, instead of expressing 
his joy, as his father expected, he burst into tears. '' Why," 
said the father, "what's the matter? I should think you 
would be delighted ; the nails are all gone.'' '^ Yes," sobbed 
John, " the nails are gone, but the scars are there yet." 

So it is, dear children, with your faults and bad habits ; 
you may overcome them, you may by degrees cure them, but 
the scars remain. Now, take my advice, and whenever you 
find yourselves doing a wrong thing, or getting into a bad habit, 
stop at once ; for every time you give up to it, you drive an- 
other nail, and that will leave a scar on your soul, even if the 
nail should be afterwards drawn out. 



14. In the narrative just given, why did the " scars" in the post 
give John so much trouble ? 

15. AVhen his father spoke kindly and cheerfully to him, and was 
willing to forgive and forget all his wrong deeds, could John, ever 
after, feel just as happy as if he had never done wrong? Iloiv long 
would his wrong acts give him pain ? 

16. Which was probably the greater sufferer for the wrong deeds 
of John — John himself, or his associates around him? 



WRONG NOT OTnERS. 33 

NARRATIVE. 

la one of our western cities, a post-office clerk was arrested 
for stealing packages of money that daily passed through his 
hands. In the full confession which he finally made, he 
stated that it was with great hesitation and reluctance that 
he ventured to open the j^rs^ letter that he suspected contained 
money, but that after the first act, he found it almost im- 
possible to allow a money-letter to pass through his hands 
without searching it. His experience in handling and open- 
ing letters soon enabled him to determine, with considerable 
certainty, the contents of packages, and, though young, and 
in no special need of money, yet so strong was his inclination 
to open such packages, that he found it extremely difficult to 
resist it. Let those who suppose it easj/ or possible to pause, at 
any time, in a downward course, take warning by his example. 



17. In the preceding narrative, in what other way was the post- 
office clerk the sufferer, besides feeling the consciousness of guilt ? 

18. Would it ever after be just as easy to resist the temptation to 
steal, as if he had never stolen ? 

19. Having deliberately and repeatedly done what he well knew 
to be so criminal, would it be as easy for him to do right respecting 
other duties, as if he had never stolen ? 

20. And when, by doing wrong intentionally, he lost some power of 
doing right for other occasions and duties, in what respect would 
lie always afterward be the sufferer ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. If a poor boy were to steal ten cents from a rich merchant's 
drawer, which would be the greater sufferer, the boy or the mer- 
chant ? 

2. In wljat respect would the merchant be the sufferer ? In what 
respect would the boy be the sufferer ? Whose suffering would last 
the longer ? 



34: WRONG NOT OTHERS. 

3. If, in ane:er, you should strike one of your companions a blow 
causing pain for two hours, but producing no further inconvenience, 
■which would be the greater sufferer, yourself or your companion ? 

4. In what manner would your companion be the sufferer in such 
a case ? In what manner would you be the sufferer ? How long 
would the recollection of the blow cause you pain ? 

5. If you say what you know is not true, to save or to gain one 
dollar, who will be the greater sufferer for your falsehood — yourself, 
or the one you have wronged ? In what manner would you be the 
sufferer ? In what respect would the person you had wronged be 
the sufferer? 

6. If a person should tell falsehoods, and afterwards acknowledge 
them and be forgiven, would his reputation stand as well among 
those who knew him as though he had always told the truth ? Would 
he be just as happy as though he had' never falsified ? 

7. Would a person who has told one falsehood be more or less 
likely to tell another ? 

8. If we have sought and obtained forgiveness for our criminal 
acts, and also made all the restitution in our power to those we 
have wronged, shall we any longer feel the consequences of our 
wrong deeds ? 

9. When we have done wrong once, is it more or less easy for us 
to do wrong again ? If we have acted uprightly at any time, will it 
be more or less easy for us to do right again ? 

10. In what manner do we lessen our power to do right ? In what 
manner do persons ever become hardened in cruelty and crime? 

11. In what manner c/o we increase our power to do right? In 
what manner do some persons become so bold and strong in vir- 
tuous deeds? 

12. In doing wrong, we suffer from a sense of guilt, we suffer in 
losing the confidence of our best friends, and we suffer in losing 
much of our power to do right afterward. Which of the three is the 
greatest cause of suffering to us? 

13. What pleasure is sweeter than the consciousness of doing 
right ? 

14. AVhat punishment do you consider harder to bear than a guilty 



conscience 



15. What power is more important to us to possess, than the power 
to do right on every possible occasion ? 

16. What, then, is the ivorst calamity that can haj^pen to anybody? 

To DO WllONQ INTENTIONALLY. 



LESSON IV. 

THE NOBLEST COURAGE IS THE COURAGE TO 
DO RIGHT. 

NARRATIVE 

True Courage. — I was sitting by a window in tlie second 
story of one of the large boarding-houses at Saratoga Springs, 
thinking of absent friends, when I heard shouts of children 
from the piazza beneath me. 

'' yes, that's capital ! so we will ! Come on, now ! there's 
William Hale! Come on, William, we're going to have a 
ride on the Circular Railway. Come with us." 

"Yes, if my mother is willing. I will run and ask her/' 
replied William. 

'' Oh ! oh ! so you must run and ask your ma ! Great 
baby, run along to your ma ! Ain't you ashamed ? I didn't 
ask my mother." '^ Nor I," " Nor I/' added half a dozen 
voices. 

" Be a man, William," cried the first voice : " come along 
with 'us, if you don't want to be called a coward as long as 
you live ) — don't you see we're all waiting ?" 

I leaned forward to catch a view of the children, and saw 
William standing with one foot advanced, and his hand firmly 
clenched in the midst of the group. He was a fine subject 
for a painter at that moment. His flushed brow, flashing 
eye, compressed lip, and changing cheek, all told how the 
word coward was rankling in his breast. " Will he indeed 
prove himself one by yielding to them ?" thought I. It was 
with breathless interest I listened for his answer; for I feared 
that the evil principle in his heart would be stronger than 

the good. But no. 

(35) 



86 THE COURAGE TO DO RIGHT. 

^^ I will not go without asking my mother," said the noble 
boy, his voice trembling with emotion ; '' I am no coward, 
either. I promised her I would not leave the house with- 
out permission, and I should be a base coward if I were to tell 
her a wicked lie." 

I saw him in the evening in the crowded parlor. He was 
walking by his mother's side, a stately matron, clad in 
widow's mourning. Her gentle and polished manners, and 
the rich full tones of her sweet voice, betrayed a Southern 
birth. It was with evident pride she looked on her graceful 
boy, whose face was one of the finest I ever saw, fairly radiant 
with animation and intelligence. Well might she be proud 
of such a son, one who could dare to do right, when all were 
tempting to the wrong. I shall probably never see the brave 
boy again ; but my heart breathed a prayer that that spirit, 
now so strong in its integrity, might never be sullied by 
worldliness and sin ; never, in coming years, be tempted to 
do evil. Then, indeed, will he be a joy to the widow's heart 
— a pride and an ornament to his native land. Our country 
needs such stout, brave hearts, that can stand fast when the 
whirlwind of temptation gathers thick and strong around 
them ; she needs men, who, from infancy upward, have scorned 
to be false and recreant to duty. 

Would you, young friend, be a brave man, and a blessing 
to your country ? — be truthful, never tell a lie, or deceive in 
any manner; and then, if God spares your life, you will be a 
stout-hearted man, a strong and fearless champion of the 
truth. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. William Hale, in the foregoing narrative, promised his mother 
he would not go away without her permission. Would he have 
exliibited any true courage in breaking his promise ? If he had not 
made a promise, but still had disobeyed his mother, would he then 
have exhibited true courage ? 



THE COURAGE TO DO RIGHT. 37 

2. If William Hale's mother had never spoken to him about leav- 
ing the house without her consent, would he have shown true 
courage in going with the boys, if he had thought it might not be in 
accordance with her wishes ? 

3. Suppose William's mother had given him express permission to 
go with the boys if he chose to do so — would he then have exhib- 
ited true courage in accompanying them, after they had ridiculed and 
insulted him for daring to do right ? 

4. Is it probable that the boys who called William a coward, were 
truly courageous themselves ? What evidence is there that they 
were, or ivere not, truly courageous ? 

5. Though the boys called William Hale a coward, is it probable 
that they believed him to be one ? Did they most likely respect 
him more or less highly, for keeping his promise, and obeying his 
mother? 



NARRATIVE. 

False Courage. — " See how hard that boy dares strike 
his pitcher against the post/' said a mischievous lad to aa 
associate. The boy, who stood tapping a pitcher softly against 
a post, regarding this as an appeal to his courage^ at once 
began to strike a little harder and harder, till, by and by, 
the pitcher was broken. Now the poor fellow's courage for- 
sook him in a moment. His fault and the anticipated pun- 
ishment flashed upon his mind, and he gave himself up to 
bitter weeping. 

"When will boys learn that true courage is to do what is 
RIGHT, and REFUSE TO DO WHAT IS WRONG? Suppose a 
wicked youth dares you to blaspheme the name of your 
Maker; must you utter an oath to show that you are a boy 
of courage ? Utter that oath, and you are a coward. What, 
afraid to refuse to do a thing which you know to be icrong ! 
Afraid to do what you know is right, lest you should be 
called a coward ! 



6. Did the boy, in the foregoing narrative, show any true courage 
in breaking his pitcher ? What did he show ? 
4 



88 THE COURAGE TO DO RIGHT. 

EXTRACT. 

True Courage. — Do not be ashamed, my lad, if you have 
a patch on your elbow. It is no mark of disgrace. It speaks 
well for your industrious mother. For our part we would 
rather see a dozen patches on your jacket, than hear one pro- 
fane or vulgar word escape from your lips, or smell the fumes 
of tobacco in your breath. No good boy will shun you be- 
cause you cannot dress as well as your companions ; and if a 
bad boy sometimes laughs at your appearance, say nothing, 
my good lad, but walk on. We know many a rich and good 
man, who was once as poor as you. There is our next-door 
neighbor in particular, now one of our wealthy men, who 
told us a short time since, that when a child he was glad to 
receive the cold potatoes from his neighbor's table. Fear 
God, my boy, and if you are poor, and honest, you will be 
respected — a great deal more than if you were the son of a 
rich man, and were addicted to bad habits. 






7. Which requires the more true courage, to refuse to do wrong, as 
William Hale did, or to wear plain and poor clothes, when all of our 
associates are wearing good and fashionable clothes and dresses ? 

8. Why should a boy be ashamed of poor clothes^ or poor parents, 
while he always does as well as he can ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Taking the Right Ground. — One Saturday noon, when 
school was dismissed, a number of us stopped a little while, 
to devise ways and means of passing the afternoon most pleas- 
antly. I was then, I think, about nine years of age. We 
could not fix upon any plan; so we separated, agreeing to 
meet, after dinner, at E H 's, and take up the sub- 
ject again. 

I received permission to spend the afternoon with E , 

or to go where the boys went, provided they " kept out of 



THE COURAGE TO DO RIGHT. 39 

miscbief." I found the boys, some five or six in number, 
assembled there when I arrived. One of them was_ ear- 
nestly urging the others to go to the I orchard. There 

was a tree, he said, of excellent apples, at a great distance 
from the house, and so near to the woods that we could get as 
many as we wanted, without being detected. 

I saw at once that I could not be one of the party, for I 
was not brought up to steal apples or any thing else. As I 
did not wish to be left alone, I was very desirous that the 
plan should not be adopted. I accordingly brought forward 
several objections — the distance of the orchard from us, the 
probability that we should not succeed, the shame that would 
follow detection in the attempt, and the fact that none of our 
parents would be willing to have us go upon such an expe- 
dition. 

My objections were plausibly answered by the proposer of 
the plan, and I began to fear that I should be left in a 

minority, when E A joined us. When he had 

learned the state of the case, he said the expedition was not 
to be thought of, AS it was wrong. It would displease 
God. Disguise it as we would, it was stealing, and God's 
law said, *' Thou shalt not steal." His remark settled the 
question. The plan was given up. We concluded to go and 
play in a large, new-mown meadow. 

I have related this incident to show how important it is to 
take the true ground, in opposing that which is wrong. 

R took the right ground. He planted himself on the 

everlasting rule of right. I have observed that when young 
persons are asked to do what their consciences will not ap- 
prove, they often assign weak reasons for declining, instead of 
boldly stating the true and conclusive argument, namely, that it 
is wrong. Never be afraid or ashamed to avow your adherence 
to the rule of right. If a thing is not right, say you will not 
do it, hecause it is not right^ and do not think it needful to 
add any other reason. 



40 THE COURAGE TO DO RIGHT. 

9. In the last narrative, how many of the boys manifested true 
courage respecting the proposition to steal apples ? 

10. If one of the boys had opposed the project of going to the 
orchard because the distance was so great, would he have exhibited 
true courage? If another had objected because the owner was 
such a kind man, would he have exhibited true courage ? 

11. Suppose two or more of the boys, feeling that it was very 
wrong to steal, yet supposing that a majority of the company would 
be opposed to going, had remained silent when the project was pro- 
posed ; would they have exhibited true courage? Would they have 
shown any want of true courage ? 

12. Suppose R A , in the narrative, knowing that it was 

wrong to steal, had silently walked away, when he heard the propo- 
sition to go to the orchard ; would that course have answered yws^ as 
well ? 

13. When the plan of going to the orchard was first proposed, what 
was the duty of every other boy of the company ? What reason 
ought each one to have assigned for not going ? 

14. Is it probable that the boys loved and respected R A 

any the less, for telling them all, boldly and promptly, and decidedly, 
that it WAS WRONG to steal fruit ? 

NARRATIVE. 

Moral Heroism. — During the summer of 1855, when 
the Norfolk pestilence was raging, Secretary Dobbin autho- 
rized Commodore McKeever, commandant of the Norfolk navy- 
yard, to close the establishment, and retire from the infected 
district. The Commodore replied that he considered the post 
of danger the post of duty, and expressed his determination 
to remain where he could be serviceable. Secretary Dobbin 
recently addressed him an official letter, inviting him to 
Washington, and complimenting him for his exhibition of 
moral heroism, in facing the "■ pestilence which walks at noon- 
day," more praiseworthy than bravery at the cannon's mouth. 



15. Which requires the more true courage, to go boldly to battle, 
as soldiers do, or to remain, day after day, in the midst of the pes- 
tilence, as Commander McKeever did, for the purpose of "being 
eerviceable " to others ? 



THE COURAGE TO DO RIGHT. 41 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEYV^. 

1. When a soldier goes boldly to battle to meet danger and death, 
•what sort of courage does he exhibit? (Bodily, or physical courage.) 

2. When a person dares to do right when others threaten, oppose, 
or ridicule him, what sort of courage doee he show ? (Moral 
courage.) 

3. Dogs will sometimes engage in a fight with dogs much larger 
than themselves. What sort of courage do such dogs manifest t 
(Brute courage or physical courage.) 

4. A boy was once called a coward and otherwise insulted, because 
he refused to join his companions in stealing plums, for the reason 
that he thought it wrong to steal. Did he show cowardice, or cou- 
rage, in refusing to steal ? If courage, of what kind ? 

5. Which do you think the nobler quality, moral or physical 
courage ? 

6. Is there ever any true courage in doing what we know to be 
wrong? 

7. But if a person insults or injures you, does it not look spirited, 
courageous and manlike in you to resent the insult or injury? Is it 
certain that such a spirit is the right spirit, and such courage is 
true courage ? 

8. Which do you consider the more difficult duty, to do right when 
all of our friends unite in ridiculing us, for our opinions, or when 
they unite in opposition and violence on the same account ? 

9. Which would you think the higher accomplishment, to possess 
the courage to do right when your associates unite in ridiculing you, 
or to be master of all the branches taught in your school ? 

10. It sometimes happens that a few scholars unite in violating, 
intentionally, the best regulations of the school of which they are 
members. Is there any real courage manifested in such an act ? 

11. Other members of the school, knowing well their secret plans 
and intentions, when called upon by the proper persons, refuse to 
give any information upon the matter. What do you think would 
be the duty of a good scholar in such a case ? 

12. In case one of your neighbors should discover a thief taking 
money or valuable articles from your father's house, what do you 
consider would be the duty of that neighbor ? , 

4* 



42 THE COURAGE TO DO RIGHT. 

13. lu case you were to see a person set fire to your neighbor's 
dwelling, what would be your duty ? 

14. If you knew that several persons were banded together for 
the purpose of secretly placing obstructions upon the railroad track, 
what would be your duty ? 

15. But suppose you were threatened with violence, if you re- 
vealed these secret purposes of mischief; what ought you to do ? 

16. Suppose your best friend becomes involved in a difficulty at 
school, in which you know he is very much to blame ; if you are 
called upon by parents or proper persons to state the facts in tlie 
case, what must you do ? 

17. Which would be better in such a case; to lose your friend by 
exposing his faults, or to conceal them, and prevent justice from 
being done to all the parties ? 

18. In case all of your associates threaten you with their displea- 
sure, or even with violence, if you reveal their secret plans of mis- 
chief; what ought you to do ? 

19. If you knew that your companions were trying, either by 
ridicule, threatening or violence, to prevent one of your associates 
from exposing their plans of mischief, what would be your duty in 
the matter? 

20. If at any time, in any manner, you see a person tryivg to do 
right while others try, in any manner to prevent him from doing so, 
what would be your duty ? 

21. When you see persons ridiculing or opposing others for trying 
to do what they think is right, what do you infer respecting the moral 
courage of such persons ? 

22. What is the first question to be asked, when we are invited to 
join others in any amusement or undertaking, or set about any plans 
of our own ? (Is it right ?) 

23. But suppose we have decided to do what we think right our- 
selves, would you think it necessary for us, at any time, to say to 
others what we think is right ? 

24. Why should any one ever be ashamed or afraid to do what is 
right ? 

25. Why should any one, at any time, be ashamed or afraid to do 
what is wrong ? 

2G. Can any one possess true courage, while he is ashamed or 
afraid to speak and act just as he thinks is right ? 

27. Can moral courage he acquired as well as tlie ability to sing or 
to write? In wliat manner? 



THE COUEAGE TO DO RIGHT. 43 

28. In "what manner can persons who sing very well now, or wi'ite 
very well now, learn to sing or write better ? 

29. In what manner can those who have a little moral courage 
now, acquire more ? 

30. Why is the courage to do right the noblest courage ? 



DARE AND DO. 

Dare to think, though others frown; 

Dare in words your thoughts express ; 
Dare to rise, though oft cast down ] 

Dare the wronged and scorned to bless. 

Dare from custom to depart ; 

Dare the priceless pearl possess; 
Dare to wear it next your heart; 

Dare, when others curse, to bless. 

Dare forsake what you deem wrong; 

Dare to walk in wisdom's way; 
Dare to give where gifts belong; 

Dare God's precepts to obey. 

Do what conscience says is right; 

Do what reason says is best ; 
Do with all your mind and might ; 

Do your duty, and be blest. 



LESSON V. 



BE SLOW TO PROMISE, BUT SURE TO PERFORM. 




NARRATIVE. 

Anecdote of the Hungarian War. — During an En- 
gagement between an Hungarian and an Austrian troop of 
light-infuntry, a Honved stabbed an Austrian officer with a 
bayonet, and mortally wounded him. Natural generosity 
prompted the Hungarian Honved to extend his aid to the 
dying foe. The officer said to him with great exertion : "] 
see you are a brave and a good-natured fellow ; I will ask a 
favor of you. In my pocket-book you will find a package 
containing documents, without which ray family will be ruined 
— reduced to beggary. Promise to send this package to ray 

(44) 



OBSERVANCE OF PROMISES. 45 

family ia Prague, in Bohemia/^ " I will carry it to them 
myself/^ answered the Honved. " Swear it to me," said the 
Austrian. " Sir, I am an Hungarian; I give you my word/' 
responded the Honved. In a few minutes afterwards the 
wounded man died in the arms of his generous foe, who, after 
covering the body with -his own mantle, and putting his 
sword in his hands, crossing them, took the papers and joined 
his troop- 

The conflict ended, and the Honved repaired to his cap- 
tain and requested a furlough, which was denied. This did 
not discourage our hero ; he went to see the colonel of his 
regiment, but met with the same result. Finally he applied to 
the commanding general, Kalapka, but even he did not grant 
his request. In the night following he left the camp, and in 
the course of a few days travelled four hundred miles, and 
delivered the papers safely into the hands of the deeply 
afflicted widow of the deceased Austrian, residing at Prague. 

Soon after, our faithful Honved rejoined his corps, and 
reported himself to his captain, who had him arrested as a 
deserter. He was tried by a court-martial, and condemned to be 
shot. The brave man calmly resigned himself to his fate, 
which came not to him unexpectedly. He prepared himself for 
death, and when the fated muskets were aimed at his breast, 
he exclaimed — "I pledged my honor and my word, and I 
was bound to keep them. Elgen a Jiaza !" (Hurrah for 
my native land) — and sank dead, pierced by many musket- 
balls. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. What do you observe in the conduct of the Hungarian soldier, 
that you approve ? 

2. The Austrian officer requested the Honved "to swear" to him 
that he would keep his promise. Would the soldier have kept his 
promise any better, if he had complied with the officer's request ? 



46 OBSERVANCE OF PROMISES. 

3. Persons sometimes excuse tliemselves from keeping their 
promises because it is inconvenient for them to fulfil them. Is this 
right ? 

4. Would the Hungarian soldier have probably broken his 
promise on account of stormy weather, or for the sake of a pleasure 
excursion, or for fear of offending friends, or for the desire of 
making money ? 

5. Did the Hungarian soldier value his promise more highly than 
he ought to value it ? — More highly than every person should value 
a promise ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Broken Pledge. — A gentleman in Virginia, says 
Mr. Gough, had a boy six or seven years old, wlio wanted to 
sign the pledge of total abstinence from intoxicating drinks ; 
all in the family had done so, but the father thought him too 
young, and would not let him. After much entreaty, per- 
mission was given. Soon after, the father went on a journey. 
At one stoppiog-place away from the town, he called for some, 
water. It was not brought, so he called again ; still he could 
not get it; but cider was brought, and being very thirsty, he 
so far forgot himself as to drink that. When he got home, 
he related the circumstance. After he had finished, the 
little boy came up to his knee with his eyes full of tears, and 
said, " Father, how far were you from James River when you 
drank the cider?'' ^'Rather more than fifteen miles, my 
boy.'' ^'Well," said the little fellow, "I'd have walked 
there and back again, rather than have broken my pledge." 
Oh, God, bless the children. We have thousands such as 
these — children who understand the principle, and keep the 
practice. I sometimes wish the adults kept the pledge as 
well as the boys do. 



6. Which do you think the more binding, a promise made in 
words, or a promise made in writing ? 



OBSERVANCE OF PROMISES. 47 

7. Do you think the boy spoken of in the last narrative, was too 
particular about keeping his pledge ? 

8. Would the Hungarian soldier have probably forgotten his 
promise when a little thirsty, as this boy^s father did ? 

9. Which do you think the more binding, the promise of the boy, 
six or seven years old, or the pledge of his father ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Little Stranger. — Though a person of very strict 
principles, no man ever enjoyed a joke more than Dr. Byron ] 
he had a vast fund of humor, an every-day wit, and with 
children, particularly, he loved to chat familiarly, and draw 
them out. As he was one day passing into the house, he 
was accosted by a very little boy, who asked him if he wanted 
any sauce, meaning vegetables. The doctor inquired if such 
a tiny thing was a market-man. ^'No, sir, my father is," was 
the prompt answer. The doctor said, ^' Bring me in some 
squashes," and passed into the house, sending out the price. 
In a few minutes the child returned, bringing back part of 
the change ; the doctor told him he was welcome to it ] but 
the boy would not take it back, saying his father would blame 
him. Such singular manners in a child attracted the doctor's 
attention, and he began to examine him attentively ; he was 
evidently poor, his little jacket was pieced and patched with 
almost every kind of cloth, and his trowsers darned with so 
many colors it was- difficult to tell the original fabric, but 
scrupulously neat and clean withal. The boy very quietly 
endured the scrutiny of the doctor, who, holding him at arm's 
length, and examining his face, at length said : 

^'You seem a nice little boyj won't you come and live 
with me, and be a doctor ?" 

" Yes, sir," said the child. 

" Spoken like a man," said the doctor, patting his head as 
he dismissed him. 



48 OBSERVANCE OF PROMISES. 

A few weeks passed on, wben one day Jim came to say 
that down stairs there was a little boy with a bundle, who 
{vanted to see the doctor, and would not tell his business to 
any one else. — "Send him up," was the answer; and in a 
few moments he recognized the boy of the squashes, (but no 
'equash himself, as we shall see ;) he was dressed in a new, 
thougb coarse suit of clothes, his hair very nicely combed, 
his shoes brushed up, and a little bundle tied in a home-spun 
checked handkerchief, on his arm. Deliberately taking off 
his cap, and laying it down with his bundle, he walked up to 
the doctor, saying, 

''I have come, sir." 

" Come for what, my child ?" ' 

" To live with you and be a doctor," said the boy with the 
utmost naivete. 

The first impulse of the doctor was to laugh immoderately ; 
but the imperturbable gravity of the little boy rather sobered 
him, as he recalled, too, his former conversation, and re- 
flected that he felt he needed no addition to his family. 

"Did your father consent to your coming ?'' he asked. 

"Yes, sir." 

" What did he say ?" 

" I told him you wanted me to come and live with you, 
and be a doctor; and he said you was a very good man, and 
I might come as soon as my clothes were ready." 

"And your mother, what did she say?" 

" She said Dr. Byron would do just wliat lie said Jie 
ivould, and God had provided for me. And," continued he, " I 
have a new suit of clothes," surveying himself, "and here is 
another in the bundle," undoing the handkerchief, and display- 
ing them, with two little shirts as white as snow, and a couple 
of neat checked aprons, so carefully folded, it was plain none 
but a mother would have done it. The sensibilities of the 
doctor were awakened, to see the fearless, the undoubting 
trust with which that poor couple had bestowed their child 



OBSERVANCE OF PROMISES. 49 

upon him — and such a child ! His cogitations were not long ; 
he thought of Moses in the bulrushes, abandoned to Provi- 
dence ; and above all, he thought of the child that was car- 
ried into Egypt, and that the Divine Saviour had said, 
'' Blessed be little children;'^ and he called for the wife of 
his bosom, saying, "■ Susan, dear, I think we pray in church 
that God will have mercy upon all young children/' 

'' To be sure we do/' said the wondering wife, " and what 
then V 

''And the Saviour said, 'Whosoever receiveth one such 
little child in his name, receiveth me;' take this child in his 
name, and have a care of him ;" and from this hour this good 
couple received him to their hearts and homes. It did not 
then occur to them that one of the most eminent physicians 
and best men of the age stood before them in the person of 
that child j it did not occur to them that this little creature, 
thus thrown upon their charity, was destined to be their staff 
and stay in declining age — a protector to their daughters, a 
more than son to themselves; all this was then unrevealed : 
but they cheerfully received the child they believed Provi- 
dence had committed to their care; and if ever beneficence 
was rewarded, it was in this instance/ 



10. If Dr. Byron had inyitecl a young man twenty years of age, 
to come and live with him, and study medicine, what would have 
been the doctor's duty in case the young man had come to his house 
with his trunks and books, in accordance with the invitation? 

11. But suppose the doctor did not expect that the youug man 
would ever come, though he had given him a fair invitation to do 
so ; if he came, what would be the doctor's duty ? 

12. When Dr. Byron invited the little boy to come and live with 
him, did he really expect he would ever come ? Did the boy sup- 
pose he was in earnest? 

13. When the boy came with his little bundle, what do you think 
was the doctor's duty ? 

5 



50 OBSERVANCE OF PROMISES. 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REYIEW. 

1. Which do you think the more binding, a promise made to young 
children, or a promise made to grown persons ? 

2. Which do you think the more binding, a promise made hy chil- 
dren, or one made by grown persons ? 

3. If you had promised to carry some medicine to a sick friend 
at a certain hour, and when the time arrived, the weather should be 
very stormy, what would be your duty ? 

4. If you had promised a stranger or an enemy that you would 
deliver a letter at the Post-OfBce at a particular hour, and should 
afterwards find that by doing so, you would lose the opportunity to 
go on a delightful pleasure excursion ; what ought you to do ? 

5. If you had promised that you would not engage in certain 
amusements, and you should afterwards learn that some of your 
best friends would be offended if you did not, what would be your 
duty? 

6. If you should promise to call on a friend at nine o'clock in the 
morning, would you fulfil your promise if you called at five minutes 
past nine ? 

7. If you had promised to work at hard labor for one year for one 
hundred dollars, and you afterwards learned that you could get one 
hundred and fifty in an employment that suited you much better, 
what would be your duty ? 

8. What would you consider a good excuse for breaking a promise, 
at any time ? 

9. Children sometimes promise to refrain from eating fruit at cer- 
tain times, or to return from a visit at a certain hour, and in the 
midst of their enjoyments /or^ei to keep their promises. Do such 
children deserve any blame? 

10. If we are thoroughly resolved to keep sacredly every promise 
we make, shall we be likely to make many or few promises ? 

11. If we succeed in strictly keeping every promise we make, who 
thereby receives the greater benefit — ourselves, or those to whom the 
promises are made ? 

12. What advantage is it to us to keep all our promises ? 

13. If we scrupulously keep all our promises, what advantage 
will that be to others ? 



HONOK THY PARENTS. 51 

14. When we have made promises, and find that we cannot fulfil 
them exactly as we expected, what ought we to do ? 

15. If, on account of your negligence in keeping your promise, 
your friend should lose five dollars, what would be your duty ? 

16. Can all the losses, occasioned by the failure of persons to 
keep their promises, be made good with money ? 

17. Which is better for us always to do, to disappoint our friends 
by refusing to promise, or to disappoint them by failing to fulfil 
our promise ? 



LESSON VI. 

HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER. 
NARRATIVE. 

The Runaway. — As a farmer's family were about going 
to bed one evening, the farmer iiimself went out to tbe weU 
to draw a bucket of fresli water. It was dark, but he thought 
he saw somebody sitting by the stone wall, with a bundle 
beside him. ''Hallo!" cried the farmer, "who are you?'' 
''I'm myself," said a tired voice; "and I don't know but 
I 've sat down here to die ; I may as well." The farmer 
went towards the poor object, and found a boy who looked 
forlorn enough, even in the twilight. " Cheer up," said the 
kind farmer, "and come into the kitchen; — let's see how 
you are." 

The boy got up, and with rather an unsteady step followed 
the man into the house. He was indeed in a pitiable condi- 
tion : his feet were blistered with travel ; his tongue was 



52 HONOR THY PARENTS. 

parched; and in addition to poverty and homelessness, he 
seemed to have a high fever. The kind-hearted family were 
soon astir in his behalf. They did not stop to make inquiries 
who he was, or where he came from, but did every thing 
which his present needs seemed to require. They washed 
him, put on clean clothes, gave him something to eat, and 
put him into a comfortable bed. The next day he was better, 
and gave an account of himself to his kind benefactors ; tell- 
ing them, we are sorry to say, what was not true, for he said 
he was an orphan, and had neither father nor mother. The 
farmer's family liked the boy, and he liked them, and con- 
cluded to stay and work on the farm. And the longer he 
stayed, the better they liked him : he was industrious and 
obliging, and they felt a great sympathy for him. 

So it went on a few weeks, when a man came to the 
farmer's house who knew the boy, and said he had a poor 
mother, who felt great distress at his absence; in fact, he had 
run away, and she did not know where he had gone. 

"Ah, that's very bad in Een," said the farmer's wife, 
" very bad — very unaccountable ;" and she looked sorely 
perplexed. "A mother ! 0, what a grief he must have been 
to her ! Well, as soon as I get a good opportunity, I'll talk 
with the lad." She soon received a letter from his mother, 
and one enclosed for Ben ; when she took him aside in her 
bed-room, and unfolded to him the discovery she had made. 
Ah ! how poor Ben looked ! It was some time before he 
spoke. "Now, you must write to your mother; you must go 
to her, Ben. Your poor mother! think what she has suf- 
fered." " Never shall go back," said Ben, gruffly. "I don't 
want to go back — never will." " Then you can write, Ben. 
She is your mother, Ben ; your excellent mother." But his 
heart seemed to be as cold as steel. He would not write, nor 
go back; but appeared rebellious and sullen whenever the 
subject was alluded to. 



HONOR THY PARENTS. 63 

"Ben is doing very wrong/^ said the farmer's wife one 
day to her husband; "to be sure he is kind to the children, 
and obliging, and a good boy to work, but I can't help think- 
ing all the time how wickedly he treats his mother. Such 
disobedience and ingratitude, such unfeeling conduct, takes 
away all the pleasure we have in his other good qualities. 
The very j&rst thing he ought to do is to return to his mother, 
ask her forgiveness, comfort her poor sorrowing heart, and 
then he can come back and live with us ; as it is, we cannot 
approve of his conduct." 

Thus, though Ben was very kind, the farmer's family could 
not respect him, and it was a question of duty with them, 
whether he should longer remain. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Do you think it was the farmer's duty to allow Ben to remain 
in his family, while he refused to honor and obey his mother ? 

2. Though Ben should work faithfully for ten years, and seem to 
be always honest, kind, and generous, could you respect him while 
he would not treat his mother with kindness and affection? 

3. Though Ben seemed so honest and faithful, do you think it 
would have been safe for the farmer to send money to distant per- 
sons by him ? 

4. "While living in open disobedience to his mother, would you 
expect him to exhibit moral courage when there was a strong neces- 
sity for himself and others to do so ? Would you expect him to keep 
all his promises sacredly ? 

5. "While Ben obstinately refused to do his first duty, did he de- 
serve the confidence of any one? 



5* 



54 



HONOR TUT PARENTS. 




NARRATIVE. 

<' It is my Mother.'^ — A gentleman tells us that, some 
years ago, being on the banks of the Kennebec Kiver, lie saw 
an Indian coming across in his canoe. He had his family 
with him, consisting of his wife and a very aged woman, 
whom he had carefully covered with a blanket. His name 
was Quenockross ; he had been wounded in battle, and was 
lame in one of his feet. 

When he reached the shore, he kindled a fire, and then 
took the aged woman out of the canoe in his arms, and laid 
her down very tenderly by it. He then cooked some food 
and gave it to her to eat, while he and his wife waited until 
she had done eating. Seeing the gentleman observe him 
very attentively, he pointed to the aged woman, and, in a 
tone that showed he felt it an honor to be thus attentive to 
her, he said, ^^It is my mother J' Yes, the poor, lame savage 
felt that it was a privilege to forget his own trouble, and act 
with the utmost respect and tenderness toward his aged mother. 



HONOE THY PARENTS. 55 

6. Some persons have found it dif&cult to place confidence in the 
honor of an Indian ; do you think this Kennebec Indian might be 
trusted ? Why ? 

7. Knowing that this Indian loved, honored, and supported his 
aged mother, what other virtues would you expect to find in his 
character ? 

8. Which person deserves the higher respect — Ben, or the poor, 
lame Indian ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Love op a Son for his Father. — The late Bishop 
Bascom, an eloquent Methodist clergymanj was distinguished 
for his filial gratitude and devotion. His father was poor, 
and greatly ajfflicted. He was bed-ridden, and almost help- 
less in consequence of rheumatism. When Bishop B. was 
professor in the college at Augusta, Kentucky, he used to go 
down to Maysville, (near which place his father lived,) and 
remain there for a week or two, cutting and hauling wood 
for him, and in every other way in his power endeavoring to 
contribute to his comfort. Here he used to sleep on the floor 
by his father's bedside, and, in order that he might be wakeful, 
he took a block for a pillow. He would continue these atten- 
tions until fairly worn down by fatigue, when he would return 
to his friend's house in Maysville, stay a few days to recruit 
his energies, and again return to his father's cabin to resume 
his work of filial piety. As long as his father lived, this 
dutiful son continued to minister to his wants; and after the 
venerated parent passed away from earth, the son transferred 
his kindness to the surviving members of the family. He 
educated all his brothers and sisters. 



9. If Bishop Bascom had sent his father ten dollars per month of 
his earnings, instead of going himself to help him, would you have 
respected him just as highly? 



56 HONOR THY PARENTS. 

10. If the Bishop had hired and paid a man to help his father, 
instead of going himself, would you have respected him just as highly 
as in the actual case ? 

11. Did Professor Bascom probably feel that it was very degrading 
for an educated man to labor hard with his hands, to help his poor 
father ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Archbishop Tillotson. — There are some children wlio 
arc almost ashamed to own their parents, because they are 
poor, or in a low situation of life. We will, therefore, give 
an example of the contrary, as displayed by the Dean of Can- 
terbury, afterwards Archbishop Tillotson. His father, who 
was a plain Yorkshireman, perhaps something like those we 
now call " Friends," approached the house where his son 
resided, and inquired whether *' John Tillotson was at home." 
The servant, indignant at what he thought his insolence, 
drove him from the door; but the dean, who was within, 
hearing and recognizing the voice, instead of embracing the 
opportunity afforded him, of going out and bringing in his 
father in a more private manner, came running out, exclaim- 
ing in the presence of his astonished servants, '' It is my be- 
loved father;" and, falling down on his knees, asked for his 
blessing. Obedience and love to our parents is a very dis- 
tinct and important command of God, upon which he has 
promised his blessing — and his promises never fail. 



12, Did the servants probably respect Archbishop Tillotson more^ 
or less highly for the respect and honor he manifested to his aged 
ftither? 

13. Instead of treating his parent with such mai'ked respect 
and honor before the servants, suppose that he had received him 
kindly, and then made him a handsome present, when he departed to 
go home ; would you have respected him just as highly as in the 
present case ? 



HONOR THY PARENTS. 57 

14. Aged parents, conscious of their ignorance, or poverty, some- 
times feel much reluctance in visiting their -wealthy children. How 
would you have such children treat poor and aged parents? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Burning of the Eichmond Theatre. — ^^I was 
but a boy, and lived in the city of Eiclimond, Virginia, when 
the theatre was destroyed by fire in December, 1811, and 
seventy-fiye persons perished. I had a brother older than 
myself, who resided there at the same time. On the day 
which preceded the fire, he approached me, handing me a 
dollar, and saying he supposed I wanted to attend the theatre 
in the evening. On my leaving home to reside in the city, 
my mother had charged me not to go to the theatre; this I 
told him, adding, I cart' t disohey my motlier. Upon this, he 
took back the dollar he had given me, expressing much con- 
tempt for my course. I was willing indeed, and even anx- 
ious to retain the dollar^ but not as the means of violating 
my mother's command. 

'^ Night came, and my brother attended the theatre, accom- 
panied by a young lady of the city, to whom he was shortly 
to be married. I retired to bed at an early hour, and knew 
nothing of the fire until after sunrise. Then I learned that 
the young lady had perished in the flames, and that my 
brother, in his efforts to save her, had narrowly escaped 
death. This bereavement was to him a source of overwhelm- 
ing grief, and he kept his room closely for nearly a month 
afterwards. He never subsequently said aught to me in 
reference to the theatre, or as to my course in refusing to 
attend." 

The above was related to me by Dr. F , now of North 

Carolina. Notice, 1. The theatre was a novelty to him, and 
he might have made this a plea for going. 2. It would have 
cost him nothing, the price of admission being proffered him 



58 HONOR THY PARENTS. 

as a gift 3. The example of an older brother was before 
him, and presented a strong inducement to go. 4. His 
mother was at some distance from the place, and it was very 
likely that she would never have heard of her son^s disobe- 
dience. But the noble boy firmly adhered to his resolution, 
"/ can't disohey my mother." The voice of God seems to 
have blended with the mother's charge, thus restraining the 
footsteps of her son^ and in all probability saving his life. 



15. In the preceding narrative, -wliat do you perceive that was 
wrong in the conduct of the elder brother? 

16. If the younger brother had refused the dollar, and declined to 
go to the theatre, without assigning any reason for doing so, would 
you respect his conduct just as highly ? 

17. Boys are sometimes ashamed to assign as a reason for their 
conduct, that a proposed plan is in opposition to the wishes or com- 
mands of parents. Is it degrading to children to obey their parents? 
Is it degrading to do any thing that is right ? 

18. In the preceding narrative, which exhibited the more moral 
courage, the elder, or younger brother ? 



NARRATIVE. 

*^ You WILL Think of it when They are Dead." — 
The omission of kind and comforting words, you will think 
of; the neglect of little acts of tender love, such as would be 
real expressions of gratitude for what they have suffered and 
done for you in your helplessness, and have always done for 
you — thoughts of these things will enter into your hearts like 
so many fine-pointed darts. Especially will these be felt 
when you come to be parents, and live over for your chil- 
dren what your parents have lived through for you. 

I knew a young woman whose father died when she was 
about eighteen years of age. She, with the rest of the chil- 
dren, were considered obedient and respectful to their father. 



HONOR THY PARENTS. 59 

The father himself said, when dying, in speaking to a friend 
concerning his children, ^^ I have good children ; never 
one of them gave me a disrespectful word/' But after all 
this, I have known that daughter to say, that the remem- 
brance of having omitted to speak some sweet, consoling 
words, which she might have spoken to her father, and of 
omitting to do some unasked and unexpected acts of gentle, 
care-taking love, which she might have done, had caused 
her more painful sensations than she could express. " I re- 
member," she said, "one instance, which has been brought 
to my mind by some little act of my child toward me, so that 
the music of my soul was hushed, and my spirit, for a sea- 
son, was clothed in mourning. I wished my father back 
again, long enough, at least, for me to act my part toward 
him over again, and let him see what was in my heart to do 
for his comfort. The instance was simply this: — I was 
ironing ; my father was in the room, in feeble health, from 
which he suffered for years before his death. He asked me 
if I could not set the iron upon my clothes in a gentler man- 
ner, as the jarring disturbed his head. I immediately 
made a change according to his request, but not half so much 
as I might have made, had I realized how agreeable a gentler 
action would have been to him. When I was nearly done, I 
noticed by the turning of his eyes toward the table, that the 
noise yet hurt him. I never forgot that anxious look of suf- 
fering; and since I have had feeble health, and have felt 
many harassing jars which my Utile thoughtless children have 
made, I have many a time sighed out, ' Oh, the thoughtless- 
ness of adult children ! — what sorrow it makes for them in 
after years !' " 



19, In what other ways may we honor parents besides rendering 
strict obedience to their commands ? 

20. In what ways may ^efail to honor them, and yet obey them ? 



60 HONOR THY PARENTS. 

VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

I. If you were directed by your parents to perform a certain piece 
of work, and you should do the work as directed, but very sullenly, 
instead of cheerfully, would this be obedience? 

■ 2. If you were intentionally twice as long as necessary in doing 
any service that your parents had asked of you, but which you did 
not wish to do, would that be obedience? 

3. Suppose you know it is contrary to the wishes of your parents 
that you should engage in certain sports or amusements, and that, 
if you were to ask them, they would refuse permission ; but you have 
never asked them. — Would it be disobedience to engage in them ? 

4. If you know that any favor you desire is contrary to the wishes 
of your parents, would you do right to ask it ? 

5. After you have once been denied a favor, do you think it right 
to ask a second time ? 

6. Suppose you have permission to stay iioo hours with some of 
your playmates, would it be disobedience to remain two hours and 
a half? — two an.d a quarter ? 

7. Children sometimes urge their companions to stay longer with 
them, than their parents have given them permission. Is it right 
for the one party to make this request, or for the other to comply 
with it ? 

8. Is it right for us ever to ask others to do what we know is not 
right either for them or for us to do ? 

9. Which would you think the more certain way of honoring pa- 
rents, to obey all their commands, and always respect their wishes 
while they are living, or, to plant flowers upon their graves when 
they are dead ? 

10. Our parents sometimes think it is their duty to deny us favors, 
when we cannot see any reason why they do so. What is the duty 
of children under such circumstances ? 

II. Which would you think aflForded the stronger evidence of affec- 
tion for parents, to bo very ready in making them little presents, 
or, to be very cheerful and affectionate when denied any favor ? 

12. If you were to ask your parents for permission to go on a 
pleasure excursion, and they should reply, " that you might go if 
you felt very anxious to do so, but they would prefer that you would 
not go;'' what ought you to do? 



HONOR THY PARENTS. 61 

13. Children are sometimes ashamed of their parents because 
their dress is not fashionable, or their manners not as refined as 
they would like. Which have the greater reason to be ashamed, the 
children of such parents, or the parents of such children ? 

14. Children who have been successful in life, are sometimes very 
much ashamed to have their poor, aged parents visit them. Why is 
this so ? 

15. Children sometimes deny themselves enjoyments that they 
may be better able to promote the happiness of their parents, and 
often parents do the same to promote the happiness of their chil- 
dren. Which do you think is the more common ? 

16. Children sometimes feel willing to sacrifice their lives for their 
parents, and often parents feel so towards their children. Which 
do you think is the more common ? 



THERE'S MUSIC IN A MOTHER'S VOICE. 

There's music in a mother's voice, 
More sweet than breezes sighing ; 

There's kindness in a mother's glance, 
Too pure for ever dying. 

There's love within a mother's breast, 
So deep 'tis still o'erflowing, 

And care for those she calls her own, 
That's ever, ever growing. 

There's anguish in a mother's tear. 
When farewell fondly taking, 

That so the heart of pity moves, 
It scarcely keeps from breaking. 

And when a mother kneels to Heaven, 

And for her child is praying, 
0, who shall half the fervor tell 

That burns in all she's saying ! 
6 



62 SPEAK THE TRUTH. 

A mother ! how her tender arts 
Can soothe the breast of sadness 

And through the gloom of life once more 
Bid shine the sun of gladness ! 

A mother ! when like evening's star, 
Her course hath ceased before us, 

From brighter worlds regard us still, 
And watches fondly o'er us. 



LESSON VII. 



THINK THE TRUTH — SPEAK THE TRUTH — ACT THE 
TRUTH. 

NARRATIVE. 

The Dishonest Newsboy. — As I was walking near the 
"Battery/' in New York, a few days ago, on my way to the 
steamboat Metropolis, a tusty, ragged, and dirty newsboy 
came down Broadway with a bundle of newspapers under hi^ 
arm, loudly shouting, 

"New York Evening 'Erald ! arrival of the Pacific! all 
about the war ! New York 'Erald, last edition V 

"Here, my lad," said I, as he approached me, "let me 
have a copy of your paper; I want to see the steamer's news." 

The boy thrust a copy of the paper into my hand, and 
seemed so excited and desirous to continue his walk and his 
cry, he could scarcely wait to take his money. As I had no 
pennies about me, and as I saw not a little of the rogue in 
his wicked-looking eyes, I held a five cent piece between my 
fingers and asked, 



SPEAK THE TRUTH. 63 

'' How much do jou want for your paper, my lad V* 

" Sixpence !" said he, with an impudent look. 

" Sixpence V I replied, '' why, boy, I fear you are roguish. 
The price of your paper is only two cents ; why do you ask 
sis ?" 

"Well, I'll take three cents," he replied, without pausing 
to explain the reason why his first demand was so high. 

"Give me two cents, then," said I, "but I fear you are a 
bad lad." 

" No, give me your money first," he answered. 

Upon this, I offered him his paper, and was about to pass 
on. This brought him to his senses, and he took out his 
pennies, gave me the change, turned upon his heel, and ran 
oS" shouting, 

" New York 'Erald ! last edition ! all about the war ! Even- 
ing edition." 

I now opened my paper, for I felt very desirous to glance 
at the news from Europe. I looked first at one column, and 
then at another. But I searched in vain. I could not find 
one word about the steamer or her news. What could it 
mean ? Aha ! the boy had cheated me. — He had sold me 
the morning edition of the paper, which I had read nine 
hours before, and which had been printed before the Pacific 
had been telegraphed. 

" Well," said I to myself, " that boy has cheated me for 
the sake of three cents. He had those morning papers left, 
and came running down this street with a lie in his mouth, 
that he might push them off among the passengers by the 
evening steamers, who, being in haste to get on board, would 
purchase papers without pausing to look at them until they 
got out into the river." 

I have no doubt the young rogue thought this a very clever 
trick. He looked as if he had already sinned away his con- 
science, and I dare say he felt but very little of that pain 
which follows a wrong act in a healthy mind. Poor, miser- 



64 SPEAK THE TRUTH. 

able boy ! I pity him, and can but entertain the fear that in 
a few years he will be the inmate of the State prison. That 
successful lie will lead him to bolder sins, and finally to 
ruin. 

I hope my young readers feel as I do towards him. If 
that keen-eyed boy, now reading these lines, is more pleased 
at the news-boy's trick than he is pained at his deceit, it is a 
sign that his mind is more inclined to evil than to good. A 
right-minded youth shrinks with disgust from a dishonorable 
act, however smartly it may be done ; while the wicked can 
find fun in the skill of wickedness. 

That poor boy not only sinned against God and himself in 
telling me that lie, but he also injured the honest news-boys 
of New York. His act made me suspect that New York 
news-boys are bad as a class. It makes you think so. I shall 
be on my guard against every news-boy I meet, when I go to 
New York again, and so will you after reading this story. 

Now this suspicion may be unjust toward some of those 
boys. There may be some choice boys in the class he repre- 
sented, and my suspicion of them may be unjust. — Yet I can't 
help feeling it. My duty to avoid being imposed on, even in 
a trifle, will cause me to deal with them as with boys who 
will cheat me if they can. The boy who cheated me has thus 
done all his fellow news-boys a great wrong. He has ex- 
posed them all to be regarded with suspicion. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. How much did the boy make by telliug a lie to sell his news- 
paper ? 

2. Which do you think would be the greater criminal, the dis- 
honest boy who would tell a lie to get three cents, or the dishonest 
man who would tell a lie to save a thousand dollars? 

3. But perhaps this poor news-boy had paid for a large number 
of the morning edition of his paper, which he would have to lose if 



65 SPEAK THE TRUTH. 

he did not sell in the course of that day. If he was very poor, and 
perhaps hungry and cold, would it be right to sell his old papers to 
save himself from loss ? 

4. But if he had offered his papers for sale in the evening, with- 
out saying whether it was the morning or evening edition, while all 
who made the purchase supposed it was the evening paper, would 

,that have been right ? 

5. If this boy had been very poor, and very ragged, and very 
cold, and very hungry, what would you have advised him to do with 
his old papers ? 

6. Under what circumstances are children and others most likely 
to tell what is not true ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Acting Lies. — " Jane, go into the store-room closet and 
bring me the large blue jar," said a mother to her little girl. 
Jane put down her books, for she was going to school, and 
ran to the closet, where the first thing she saw was a basket 
of large red apples. ^' I should like one of these to carry to 
school," she thought, "but 1 do not know whether mother 
will think it best for me to have one ;'^ so instead of asking, 
she slipped the largest one she saw into her pocket, and 
covered it over with her shawl, lest her mother should see it. 
Jane then took the jar to her mother, and carried the apple 
to school, which proved to be a hard winter apple, unfit to be 
eaten. 

By and by Jane's class in History was called up to recite, 
and she was quite particular about getting her seat behind 
the stove, rather out of the way of the teacher's eye. Jane 
had the History in her hand, with a pencil between the pages 
of the lesson, and every now and then, watching her chance, 
she peeped into the book, but when the teacher glanced that 
way, she looked up as innocently as could be. 

School was dismissed a little earlier than usual, and Helen 
Brewster went home with her to get a book which Jane 
promised to lend her, but she did not wish to let her mother 
6* 



6Q SPEAK THE -TRUTH. 

know that school was done, as she might be wanted to help 
her in some way, or to play with the baby. So she opened 
the door very softly, and crept up stairs on tiptoe. A call 
from the sitting-room, "Jane, is that you?'' It was her 
mother's voice; — but Jane did not answer to the call. She 
crept down, and out again, and did not get back for 
some time. " I thought I heard you come in some time 
ago," said her mother ; " I wish it had been you, for I have 
needed you very much. Willie has been very sick." Jane 
said nothing, and how she felt you can perhaps imagine. 

We have followed Jane through a part of the day, and 
have seen her just as she was, not as she seemed to be to her 
mother and teacher ; and what do 'you think of her ? — There 
are many children like Jane, and perhaps they will see 
themselves in her. Jane, you see, was not a truthful child. 
" But she did not fell any lie," some one will say. No, but 
she acted lies, and you see in how many things she deceived 
in half a day's time. " Little things," perhaps you will say. 
But little things show what we really are, and what makes 
up the character. There is no habit more dangerous than 
that of deceiving in little things, because it is so easily fallen 
into. Let every child who reads this, examine her conduct, 
and see if she is in danger of sliding into it. All deceit is 
displeasing to God. 



7. In the preceding narrative, how many times was Jane really 
guilty of falsehood? 

8. When she heard her mother call her, and yet remained silent, 
did she intend that her mother should understand that she was not 
in the room ? 

9. .Jane " peeped into her book," and when the teacher *• glanced 
that way," she looked up as innocently as could be. What did she 
say, in actions, to the teacher ? 

10. When she slily put the apple under her shawl, of wlmt crime 
was she guilty? — any more than one crime? 



SPEAK THE TRUTH. 67 



NARRATIVE. 

Getting over it Finely. — "Why, Alfred, how could 
you tell mother that wrong story ?" said Lucy Somers to her 
brother. " You know you did eat one of the apples that was 
in the fruit-dish, yet you told mother you did not.''^ 

" Now, Lucy, I did'nt tell any lie about it at all. You 
know mother asked me if I took one of the apples from the 
dish, and I said No. And that was true; for the apple 
rolled off from the top of the dish, when I hit the table, and 
I picked it up from the floor. Mother didn't ask me if I ate 
one, but if I took one from the dish. So you see I got along 
finely icitli it, and told nothing but the truth." 

Yes, but the boy knew that he meant to deceive his mother, 
and that made it a falsehood. I don't tbink he will get 
along so finely with his own conscience, or with Him who 
searches and tries the heart. God knows loliat toe mean, as 
well as what we say. 



11. The boy, in the last narrative, -svas quite confident he had told 
nothing but the truth. "What do you perceive in his conduct that 
was wrong ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Acting Lies. — A beautiful picture was to be exhibited in 
the Hall. Teachers of the schools made arrangements to 
take in their pupils, at a reduced price, that they might enjoy 
the pleasure of beholding it. Thomas and Mary went to 
different schools. Mary skipped in, clapping her hands, '' Oh 
we are going to see the picture this afternoon. Our teacher 
says so — all the scholars — oh, I am so glad !" 

"Our teacher ain't," said Thomas, looking sober and 
sorry. ^ 



68 SPEAK THE TRUTH. 

^^ 'Tis too bad. I wish you went to our school, Tommy. 
We are going to be at the school precisely at half past two, 
and then we are going to march to the Hall : Anna and I 
mean to walk together " — so Mary talked on. ^' I wish I 
could go,'' said Thomas, looking very soiTy. " I love to see 
pictures dearly.'' 

''I'll tell you what you can do," suggested his aunt, ''you 
can go to Mary's school, this afternoon, and go in as one of 
the scholars— you may do that, Thomas." 

" No, aunt, I can't do that, because I am 7iot one of the 
scholars — it will be acting a lie. I am scholar to another 
school," answered Thomas. When the time came, he beheld 
his sister depart without wavering; dearly as he loved pic- 
tures, he would not visit this, with Mary, lest he should 
depart from strict truthfulness of action as well as word. 

Was not Thomas a noble boy ? 

Do children remember that lies can be acted as well as 
spoken ? and that an acted lie is as wicked in the sight of 
God as a spoken lie ? Think of this, and see if you are sin- 
cere and truthful in your conduct; see if you do not act one 
thing and mean another. 

Strive to have your heart right, and let your actions be a 
faithful copy of what you really mean. Then, though you are 
a child, your parents and friends will confide in your words and 
honor your characters. 



12. Would it have cost the showman any thing more, if Thomas 
had gone in with the scholars of his sister's school ? 

13. Who would have been the suflferer, if Thomas had quietly gone 
in with his sister ? 

14. Would Thomas have probably been the only suflferer in thus 
acting a lie ? 

15. How would the example of Thomas have affected his own 
school, as well as his sister's, if he had done as his aunt suggested ? 

16. Is it probable that his noble, self-denying conduct was of any 
advantage to any one ? To whom ? 



SPEAK THE TRUTH. 69 

VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIOXS FOR SPECIAL AXD GENERAL REYIEW. 

1. Is it right to tell Tv-hat we know is not true? 

2. Are there any other ways of telling a falsehood, except by 
words ? 

3. Could deaf and dumb persons, who talk by signs, tell a lie with 
their fingers ? 

4. If I had lost my pencil, and you had found it, and I should in- 
quire if you had seen it, and you should shalze your head, would that 
be telling a lie ? 

5. Suppose I had lost my knife and pencil, and you should find 
them both, and I should inquire for them, and you would say that 
you had found my hnife, but should say nothing about the pencil, 
would this be right? Would it be as bad as telling a lie ? 

6. Suppose you had whispered or played in school, and I should 
ask all who had done so to arise, and you should remain in your seat, 
would that be the same as telling a falsehood? 

7. Suppose you were playing, and the teacher should turn to 
look at you, and you should suddenly stop, and pretend you had 
been still all the time — would this be the same as telling your teacher 
a falsehood ? 

8. Would it be right to tell a falsehood to save yourself or another 
from being punished ? 

9. If you were very 7n<?7^r?/ or thirsty, would it be right to tell a lie 
to get /oof? or drink? 

10. Would it be right to tell a falsehood to gain a thousand 
dollars ? 

11. Which is the more criminal — to tell a lie in words, orhj keep- 
in ff silent ? 

12. Can persons tell what is strictly true, and yet not tell the 
truth ? 

13. For what purpose does any one ever tell a falsehood? 

14. Can you think of any cases where falsehoods have been told, 
■where there was not some guilt to be concealed ? 

15. When we have neglected some duty, or have been involved in 
some difficulty, are we likely to blame ourselves ? 

16. In giving an account of our neglect of duty, or of our diffi- 
culties with others, if we mention all their faults, and omit to men- 
tion all of our own, of what wrong would we be guilty ? 



70 SPEAK THE TRUTH. 

17. Will telling a lie be the only wrong of ■which we should be 
guilty in such a case ? 

18. Which do you think the greater wrong — to do injustice to 
others intentionally, or to tell what you know is not true ? 

19. Have you ever heard or read of persons v/ho would sooner 
suffer death than tell a lie ? 

20. An old man, who has left in his writings many excellent 
thoughts, after thinking often why people regard it such a sad dis- 
grace to be accused of lying, said : " If it be well weighed to say that 
a man lieth, it is as much as to say that he is brave towards God, 
and a coward towards men ; for a lie faces God, and shrinks from 
men." Can you explain in what way a liar is always a great coward 
towards men ? And how is he bold towards God ? 



LYING LirS BRING SORROW. 

When you 've been guilty of a fault, 

Oh ! lie not to conceal it; 
For it will happen, soon or late, 

That something will reveal it. 

And then, whate'er the deed has been. 
However great your trouble. 

The fault, the sorrow, and the sin. 
Will all be rendered double. 

But when at once the truth you 've told. 
Away with all your sadness, 

The sense of having done what 's right, 
Must fill the heart with gladness. 



LESSON VIII. 

DO GOOD TO ALL, AS YOU HAVE OPPORTUNITY. 
NARRATIVE. 

Money well Expended. — Captain S. C. S., of Portland, 
was one day passing through one of the streets in Boston, 
when he saw a poor sailor lying on the side-walk, with his 
feet in the gutter, in such a position as to endanger his limbs, 
if not his life. Captain S. lifted him up, aroused him, and 
by degrees got his history. He belonged to a good family 
who resided in the eastern part of Maine, had been well edu- 
cated, and exhibited now the wreck of a brilliant intellect 
and amiable disposition. He said he had been sick, had 
stayed his time out in the Charlestown Hospital, and had that 
morning been discharged without a cent, and in so feeble a 
state as to disqualify him from going to sea again at present. 
" Then why don^t you go home V said Captain S. " I can- 
not pay my passage ; I have no money,^' answered the de- 
sponding sailor. '' Have you found anybody that would give 
you any breakfast ?" said the Captain. " 'No/' was the reply, 
'' but I found a man who gave me something to drink, and, 
as I was very weak and very hungry, the liquor . overcame 
me ; but I am not so much intoxicated as I seem to be ; I 
have my senses perfectly well.^' " How much will take you 
home?^^ inquired the Captain. " There is,'^ said the tar, "a 
vessel lying at the wharf which would take me within two 
miles of my home for one dollar, and I would go if I only 
had the money.'' " Now, shipmate,'^ continued Captain S., 
" give me your hand, and look me straight in the eye. Now 
promise, upon the honor of a sailor, that you will never drink 

(71) 



72 DO GOOD TO ALL. 

any more of the poison stuff, and I'll give you some break- 
fast and pay your passage home.'' The sailor clasped his 
emaciated fingers around the rough hand of the Captain, and 
pronounced the pledge. Captain S. handed him a bill, saw 
him safe in the nearest public-house, and went his way. 

Some three years after, as Captain S. was passing along 
Exchange Street, in Portland, some one behind him called 
out: "Captain ! I say. Captain ! Hallo ! Captain !" Capt. S. 
turned around, and a well-dressed stranger grasped him by 
the hand, and inquired if he knew him. He confessed he 
did not recollect ever having seen him before. The stranger, 
after several ineffectual attempts to refresh his memory, 
finally brought to his recollection the scene narrated above, 
and said that he was the sailor to whom the Captain bad 
thus acted the part of the Samaritan, and insisted on return- 
ing four-fold for the money which had been bestowed on that 
occasion. All remuneration was refused, and the young man 
was exhorted to go and do likewise. " I will with all my 
heart," said he, as the tears gathered in his eyes ; " but I owe 
you a debt that I can never discharge. I have never broken 
my pledge, and with the help of God I never will. I went 
home after you left me, and through the entreaty of my 
friends, I commenced trading, and am now here to purchase 
goods. I have been prospered in business, and have lately 
been united to the woman of my choice. You were the 
means of saving both soul and body ; for I have lately been 
made acquainted with the blessed Saviour of sinners. Oh ! 
if my poor old father could get hold of j^our hand, he would 
almost wring it from your body in gratitude." The generous 
heart of the Captain was melted, for he loved the Saviour 
too. The flood-gates of his soul were opened, and they wopt 
together like two children, shook hands again, exchanged a 
hearty " God bless you,'_^ and. parted. 



DO GOOD TO ALL. 73 

QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Did Captain S. do the sailor good in any otlier way than by 
giving him a dollar ? In what way ? 

2. Which do you think did the sailor the more good — the dollar 
and the breakfast, or the kind words of encouragement and the 
earnest invitation of the Captain to take the temperance pledge? 

3. Perhaps the generous Captain thought only of helping the poor 
snilor when he gave lifm the dollar and the breakfast. What other 
persons were benefited thereby? 

4. In what way was the Captain himself benefited ? In what way 
was the sailor benefited ? In what way were the sailor's parents 
and relatives benefited ? In what way were his friends and all 
those living around him benefited ? In what way are you thereby 
benefited ? 

5. Which probably aflforded the purer enjoyment to Captain S., — 
the pleasure of earning a dollar, or that of giving to the poor, friend- 
less sailor the same amount? 

6. If the Captain could have foreseen how much good his money 
and kind words would do the sailor, and how the blessings of the 
sailor's parents and friends were to be showered upon him, how 
much money do you think would have induced him to neglect this 
opportunity of doing good ? 

7. Were so good an opportunity before you to-day to make so 
many persons happy, what would you do ? 

8. Have you ever had any oppportunities for doing good to 
others ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Dry up a Tear when you can. — If we are to do good to 
all as we have opportunity, we must abound in kind words. 
In this rough world, so full of hardships, trials and difficul- 
ties. Christians should abound* in the grace of kindness. 
" Oh,^' says some one, "kind words are cheap." So they 
are; and so is the light of heaven, and a cup of cold water; 
yet these are among the most precious gifts of God. Passing 
along the streets a few days ago, we saw a little child who 
had tripped his foot and fallen down. He was crying over 
7 



74 DO GOOD TO ALL. 

his distress. We lifted him up, instinctively saying, ^^ Poor 
little fellow V These brief words of sympathy were very 
cheap, but they brushed away his tears, and spread sunshine 
over his face again. 

The poorest on earth can say a kind word to a struggling 
brother or sister; and who can tell the good that may be 
done by a single kind word ? It may cheer some sorrowing 
heart — may revive some fainting brother — may fill some 
soul with gladness. 

9. Yvhich gives us the more pleasure, the many lilile acts of kind- 
ness which we receive from others, or ih.Q few great acts ? 

10. What class of persons are so 'unfortunate in the world that 
they can not do little acts of kindness to somebody ? 



True Charity. — We were much struck by a scene which 
we witnessed a few days since in Broadway, near the Park. 
A poor woman '^sat by the way-side begging.^' She was 
evidently too feeble to work, even if work had been at hand 
and waiting to be done. To all appearance, her next remove 
would be to the Hospital, and then, to the grave. In a low 
voice, and indeed, more with her eyes than with her tongue, 
she pleaded to the passers-by, for alms. But her appeal was 
in vain. Few noticed her, — not one in a thousand gave her 
anything. 

While the proud and rich, and busy folks thus "passed by 
on the other side," a good Samaritan approached, — a woman 
bearing on her head a bundle of wood, a woman, one would 
have said, herself in need of charity. From her little store 
of this world's wealth, she drew forth two cents, and gave 
them to the sick beggar woman. We were affected by the 
incident, and thought how sadly wanting is true charity 
among those who think themselves altogetlier unblamable in 
their conduct towards others. Taking good care of themselves, 
they seem to suppose that their whole duty is performed. 



' 



DO GOOD TO ALL. 75 

11. Which, probably, cost more self-denial, for this poor -woman 
to give two cents, or for most persons to give two dollars ? 

12. Many persons, richer than the poor woman with the bundle 
of sticks, passed by, thinking they were not able to give any thing. 
What was the real difficulty with them ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Truth stranger than Fiction. — A young man re- 
cently ran away from the galleys at Toulouse. He was 
strong and vigorous, and soon made his way across the 
country, and escaped pursuit. He arrived the next morning 
before a cottage in an open iield, and stopped to beg something 
to eat, and get a refuge, while he reposed a little. But he 
found the inmates of the cottage in the greatest distress. 
Four little children sat trembling in a corner — their mother 
was weeping and tearing her hair — and the father walking 
the floor in agony. The galley-slave asked what was the 
matter, and the father replied that they were that morning 
to be turned out of doors, because they could not pay their 
rent. "You see me driven to despair,'' said the father, " my 
wife and little children without food or shelter, and I without 
the means to provide any for them.'' The convict listened 
to this tale with tears of sympathy, and then said : 

" I will give you the means. I have but just escaped from 
the galleys : whoever secures and takes back an escaped 
prisoner, is entitled to a reward of fifty francs. — How much 
does your rent amount to ?" 

'' Forty francs," answered the father. 

" Well," said the other, " put a cord around my body. I 
will follow you to the city ; for they will recognize me, and 
you will get fifty francs for bringing me back." 

"No, never!" exclaimed the astonished listener; "my 
children should starve a dozen times before I would do so 
base a thinf^c !" 



76 DO GOOD TO ALL. 

The generous young man insisted, and declared at last 
that he would go and give himself up, if the father would not 
consent to take him. After a long struggle the latter 
yielded, and, taking his preserver by the arm, led him to the 
city and to the mayor's office. Every body was surprised 
that a little man, like the father, had been able to capture 
such a strong young fellow — but the proof was before them. 
The fifty francs were paid, and the prisoner sent back to the 
galleys. But after he was gone, the father asked a private 
interview with the mayor, to whom he told the whole story. 
The mayor was so much affected, that he not only added 
fifty francs more to the father's pu;'se, but wrote immediately 
to the Minister of Justice, begging the noble young prisoner's 
release. The Minister examined into the affair, and, finding 
that it was comparatively a small offence which had condemned 
the young man to the galleys, and that he had already served 
out half his time, ordered his release. Is not the whole 
incident beautiful ? 



13. If the galley-slave, spoken of in the last narrative, had given 
this poor man fifty francs of his own earnings, would it have con- 
ferred as great satisfaction as aiding him by surrendering his own 
personal liberty ? 

14. It was a very great kindness to the poor man to have a home 
provided for his family. Were there any other jDcrsons benefited by 
this generous act of the convict? 

15. In what way was the galley slave, himself, benefited ? In 
what way was the Mayor benefited? In what way was the minis- 
ter of justice benefited? In what way are you benefited by this 
noble deed of self-denial and charity ? 

16. Among all the persons benefited by this act of the galley 
slave, who, do you suppose, has been most benefited "i 



DO GOOD TO ALL. 77 

VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Are opportunities for doing good common, or rare? 

2. In "what manner may persons do good to others ? 

3. What do you consider would be the best possible deed that one 
person could do for another ? 

4. Which would you think the better method of doing good to 
others, to perform the acts of kindness yourself, or give money to 
others to enable them to perform the same acts of kindness ? 

5. Do children ever have opportunities for doing good in any 
manner ? 

6. Do persons, who are very poor, and very needy, and very 
ignorant themselves, ever have any opportunities for doing good ? 

7. What class of persons in the world are entirely prevented from 
doing good to others in any manner? 

8. Who have the best opportunities for doing good ? 

9. Have you ever heard or read of persons who seemed to devote 
their whole lives to the work of making others happy ? What men 
have you known or read of? — What women ? 

10. In what manner may persons help others, who have neither 
money nor property to give ? 

11. If you were to speak kind words of encouragement to the 
sorrowful and the unfortunate, in what way might you benefit them ? 

12. If you should possess the courage to do right, when all around 
you were inclined, strongly, to do wrong, in what way might you 
benefit others ? 

13. If you were known, in any case, to repay a severe injury with 
a kind act, in what way might you benefit others ? 

14. If, before your brothers and sisters, and associates, you should 
always honor and obey your parents, in what way might you be 
doing good to others? 

15. Which alfords the higher satisfaction, to help others to as 
many enjoyments as we possibly can, or help ourselves to every 
gratification within our power ? 

16. Why may we not neglect any opportunities to do good ? 

17. If we neglect opportunities for doing good, who are, thereb}', 
the sufferers ? 

18. Which are usually the greater sufi'erers when we neglect our 
duties — ourselves, or those who need our kind attentions ? 

7* 



78 DO GOOD TO ALL. 

19. We cannot always help others as we would like to do, with- 
out makiBg some sacrifices ourselves. What is to be done in such a 
case ? 

20. Which do you think affords us the purer pleasure — to do kind 
acts to others when it costs little or no sacrifice, or when it costs U3 
great self-denial to render others assistance ? 

21. If we practise aiding the unfortunate, and helping others all 
we can, will our love for doing good grow stronger, or weaker ? 

22. Which would you think the better man, the one that does the 
greatest amount of good to others, or the one that loves the better to 
do good ? Which of the two would you think the happier man ? 

23. When we have lived out all of our days, which will afford us 
greater satisfaction, to think that we have secured for ourselves all 
the comforts and enjoyments of this world, or secured as many as 
possible of these for others ? 



GIVING. 

What ever lost by giving? 

The sky pours down its rain, 
Eefreshing all things living, 

While mists rise up again. 

Go rob the sparkling fountain. 
And drain its basin dry j 

The barren-seeming mountain 
Will fill its chalice high. 

Who ever lost by loving? 

Though all our hearts we pour, 
Still other spirits moving, 

Will pay our love with more. 

And was there ever blessing, 
That did not turn and rest 

A double power possessing, 
The blesser bcina; blcss'd ? 



LESSOK IX. 



SPEAK EVIL OF NO ONE. 



NARRATIVE. 



The Lost Brooch. — The following incident will help to 
show how very careful we ought to be not to judge from ap- 
pearance alone, but to grant to others the same charitable 
consideration we would wish extended to ourselves. 

In summer, our country home is often visited by our city 
friends, and we enjoy their brief sojourn with us. — Some 
time since, a dear friend of my mother came to pass several 
months. She brought her only child, a lovely boy, just old 
enough to run alone, and to fill the house with his childish glee. 
His nurse was a good-natured Irish woman. She was rather 
noisy and officious ; the house and garden she ransacked at 
pleasure ; and in the farm-house she made herself particularly 
free. But she was kind and faithful to her little charge, and 
for that reason much valued by the child's mother. 

Soon, our farmer's daughter, Mrs. M — — , came home to 
make her annual visit, bringing her little boy, about the age of 
our other juvenile visitor. Master Eddie liked aplayfellow, and 
Bridget's visits to the farm-house became still more frequent. 

One day Mrs. M came with an anxious face to my 

mother to ask if she thought Bridget was perfectly honest. 

We were startled at the question, for we had never doubted 
her honesty, and knew that her mistress trusted her impjicitly. 

Mrs. M said that she had lost a brooch, and she was 

sure Bridget had taken it; indeed, so indignant and excited 
was she, that I think nothing but her regard for my mother 
prevented her accusing Bridget of the theft. 



80 SPEAK EVIL OF NO ONE. 

She had been out walking, and when she returned, took 
out her brooch and laid it on the table, Bridget soon came 
in with Eddie, and stayed some time ; after her departure, Mrs. 

M wanted her brooch, and it was gone ! — They searched 

everywhere ; the table was moved, the drawers emptied, the 
carpet swept, even the rag-bag was turned inside out, and its 
contents carefully examined, because she remembered to have 
put some pieces in it while Bridget was there. But the 
brooch was not to be found : it could not have gone without 
hands, and nobody was there but Bridget. We were all very 
much troubled, but my mother concluded it was best not to 
say anything to her friend about it ; she was away from home, 
and could not, without a great deal of trouble, get another 
nurse. Besides, though appearances were much against 
Bridget, we still hoped the trinket would come to light. 

Time passed on, and Mrs. M started for her western 

home, firmly believiog that Bridget had her brooch. — Our 
pleasant friend, with her darling boy, also left us ] and Bridget, 
quite unsuspicious of our hard thoughts, bade us good-bye 
cheerfully, glad to return to her city companions. We settled 
into our quiet winter habits, with our books and work. 

One cold day the farmer came home for a pair of woollen 
socks. His wife told him they were in a bag in the closet. 
Now there were two bags hanging there ; one was a rag-bag, the 
other contained his socks. He hastily put his hand into the 
bag, and pulled out, not a pair of socks, but a handful of pieces, 

with the long-lost brooch ! Mrs. M had put her rags 

into the wrong bag, and the brooch with them. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. In the narrative just g;iven, was the family to blame for sus- 
pecting that the girl had stolen the brooch ? 

2. "Would it have been right, under all the circumstances, for any 
one of them to charge Bridget Tvith stealing the brooch ? 



SPEAK EYIL OF NO OXE. 81 

o. As Bridget had never been known to steal before, -would it 
iuive been light for anj one of the familj to mention to some intimate 
;,;:,-, that Bridget would steal? 

4. If the tamily had united in publicly charging Bridget with 
stealing, under the circumstances stated in the narrative, and had 
afterwards learned that she was not in any maoner guilty, what 
would then have been their duty ? 

5. If the servant girl had really stolen the brooch, and confessed 
it, what would have been the duty of the family, in case she seemed 
reaUy penitent ? 

6. Would it probably help to reform any one who had once been 
guilty of stealing, to be publicly exposed ? 



NARRATITE. 

Kindness the Eest Punishment. — A Quaker, of ex- 
emplary character, was disturbed at night by footsteps 
around his dwelling : he arose fi'om his bed, and cautiously 
opened a back door to reconnoitre. Close by was an out- 
house, an3. under it a cellar, near a window of which was a 
man busilj engaged in receiving the contents of the pork- 
baiTel from another within the cellar. The old man approached, 
and the Friend's thief outside fled. He stepped to the cel- 
lar-window, and received the pieces of pork from the thief 
within, who after a little while asked the supposed accom- 
plice in a whisper, " Shall we take it all ?" The owner of the 
pork said softly, ^' Yes, take it all;" when the man indus- 
triously handed up the remainder through the window, and 
then came up himself. Imagine the consternation, when, 
instead of greeting his companion in crime, he was confronted 
by the Quaker. Both were astonished ; for the thief proved 
to be a near neighbor, whom none would have suspected of 
such conduct. He pleaded for mercy, begged the old man 
not to expose him, spoke of the necessities of poverty, and 
promised never to steal again. 

"If thou hadst asked me for meat/' said the good Friend, 



82 SPEAK EVIL OF NO ONE. 

'^it would have been given thee. I pity thy poverty and thy 
weakness, and esteem thy family. Thou art forgiven.'' 

The thief was greatly rejoiced, and was about to depart, 
when the old man said, "Take the pork, neighbor.'' 

"No, no," said the thief, "I don't want your pork." 

" Thy necessity was so great that it led thee to steal; one 
half of this pork thou must take with thee." 

The thief insisted that he could .never eat a morsel of it. 
The thought of the crime would make it choke him. He 
begged the privilege of letting it alone. But the old man 
was inexorable, and furnished the thief with a bag and half 
of the pork put therein, and laying it on his back, sent him 
home with it. He met his neighbor daily, for many years 
afterwards, and their families visited together, but the matter 
was kept a secret; and though in after-time the circumstance 
was mentioned, the name of the delinquent was never known. 
The punishment was severe and effectual. It was probably 
the first, and was certainly his last attempt to steal.. 

Had the man been arraigned before a court of justice, and 
imprisoned for the petty theft, how different might have been 
the result ! His fiimily disgraced, their peace destroyed, the 
man's character ruined, and his spirit broken. Revenge, 
not penitence, would have swayed his heart, the scorn of the 
world would have darkened his future, and in all probability 
he would have entered upon a course of crime at which, when 
the first offence was committed, his soul would have shud- 
dered. And what would the owner of the meat have gained ? 
Absolutely nothing ! Kindness was the best punishment, 
for it saved while it punished. 



7. What course would most persons have pursued, if they had 
detected a neighbor in the act of stealing, as the Quaker did? 

8. Would the Quaker ever have been a better, or a richer, or a 
liappicr man, if he had publicly exposed the conduct of his neigh- 
bor ? 



SPEAK EVIL OF NO ONE. 83 

9. What •would probably have been the effect upon the man and 
his family, if the Quaker had spoken of this matter to a few of his 
intimate friends ? 

10. In what manner was the Quaker benefited by not exposing the 
crime of his neighbor? 

11. When yfQ positively knoio that others have faults, what is always 
the better course for us to pursue ? 

12. Have you ever known cases where those who have spoken 
harshly and unkindly of the conduct or motives of others, have, at 
the same time, abused their best friends ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Good for Evil. — An old man, of the name of Guyot, 
lived and died in the town of Marseilles, in France. By the 
most laborious industry, and the severest habits of absti- 
nence and privation, he amassed a large fortune. His 
neighbors considered him a miser, and thought he was hoard- 
ing up money from mean and avaricious motives. Whenever 
he appeared, the populace pursued him with hootings and 
execrations, and the boys sometimes threw stones at him. 
In his will were found the following words : — ^' Having 
observed, from my infanc}^, that the poor of Marseilles are 
ill-supplied with water, which can only be purchased at a 
great price, I have cheerfully labored the whole of my life to 
procure for them this great blessing : and I direct that the 
whole of my property shall be laid out in building an aque- 
duct for that purpose." 



13. Does it increase or diminish our enjoyments, to receive favors 
from those we know we have deeply wronged ? 

14. Was the old man of Marseilles the greater sufferer for the ill 
things said of him, or were those who uttered them the greater 
sufferers ? 



84 SPEAK EVIL OF NO ONE. 

NARRATIVE. 

The Erring Brother. — Dr. Waugh being in company 
with a number of ministers, the bad conduct of a brother in 
the ministry became the subject of conversation, and every 
gentleman in the room joined warmly in condemning him. 
Dr. Waugh sat for a time silent. At last he walked up to 
his companions, and said, " My dear friends, surely we are not 
acting in accordance with our profession. The person you speak 
of is one of ourselves, and we ought not to blow the coal. 
But do you know that he is as bad a man as represented ? 
and if he is, will railing against him do him any good? It is 
cowardly to speak ill of a man behind his back ; and I doubt 
if any of us would have sufficient courage, if our poor friend 
were to appear among us, to sit down and kindly tell him of 
his faults. If there be one here who feels himself quite pure, 
and free from error, let him throw the first stone ; but if not, 
let us be silent, and I confess that I feel that I must not say 
one word.'^ He resumed his seat, and the company looked 
at each other, struck silent by the rebuke from one so good 
and mild. 



15. If the ''erring brother" had been guilty of every thing 
charged against him, what was the duty of his friends respecting his 
faults ? What was the duty of such strangers as might hear of them ? 
Of enemies who might know well the faults of their neighbor or min- 
ister ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. When persons speak ill of others, do those who thus speak 
derive any benefit ? Do those who listen derive any benefit? Do 
the slandered persons derive any benefit? Who does derive any 
benefit? 



SPEAK EVIL OF NO ONE. 85 

2. Is the person who slanders another, himself injured in any 
way ? How ? 

3. Are persons who listen to slanders, the sufferers in any way ? 
In what way ? 

4. Are slandered persons the sufferers in any way ? — In what 
way? 

5. When your associates begin to speak unkindly of others, in 
your presence, what would you consider to be your duty ? 

6. But suppose you know they are telling only the truth, would 
it be well to listen to them ? — to remind them of their duty to the 
absent ? 

7. Will those who know our faults best, and feel most anxious to 
aid us in correcting them, be more or less likely to speak of them to 
others ? 

8. When our friends or strangers seem to treat us with neglect or 
disrespect, is it always certain that they intend to do so ? 

9. If persons seem to do wrong, or omit to do what we think is 
right, is it always certain that their motives are bad ? 

10. Will it be safe for us to speak harshly of the acts of others, 
while we do not positively know their motives? 

11. Some persons speak of the faults of their best friends, to one 
or two other particular friends, and charge them 7iever to tell any body 
else. What do you think of this habit? 

12. AYhich do you think are generally the greater sufferers, the 
slandered persons, or the slanderers ? 

13. What is the best possible course for everybody to pursue, re- 
specting the faults of others? (Never to make them a subject of 
conversation, except from a clear sense of duty.) 

1-i. Will it be easy always to practise the above rule ? Is it possible 
for us to do so ? 

15. But if persons zvill speak unkindly of you, how can you escape 
injury from their slanders ? (Live so that nobody will believe 
them.) 

16. Will it be safe^to conclude that those who are most forward to 
see other people's faults, and speak of them, give the least attention 
to the work of discovering and correcting their own faults? 

8 



86 SPEAK EVIL OF NO ONE. 



SPEAK NO ILL. 

Nay, speak no ill ! A kindly word 

Can never leave a sting behind, 
And oh ! to breathe each tale we've heard, 

Is far beneath a noble mind, 
Full oft a better seed is sown 

By choosing thus the kinder plan ; 
For if but little good be known. 

Still let us speak the best we can, 

Give me the heart that fain would hide — 

Would fain another's faults efface ; 
How can it pleasure human pride 

To prove humanity but base ? 
No ; let us reach a higher mood, 

A nobler estimate of man ; 
Be earnest in the search for good, 

And speak of all the best we can. 

Then speak no ill — but lenient be 

To other's failings as your own ; 
If you 're the first a fault to see. 

Be not the first to make it known ; 
For life is but a passing day, 

No lip may tell how brief its span ; 
Then oh ! the little time we stay. 

Let's speak of all the best wo can. 



LESSON X. 



CAREFULLY LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE, AND ALWAYS OBEY 
ITS COMMANDS. 



NARRATIVE. 

The Gold Sovereign. — " When I was only eight years 

old/^ said Judge N , '^my father and my mother being 

poor, with half a dozen children more than myself to take 

care of, I was given to a farmer in the town of F , who 

designed making a ploughboy of me, and keeping me in his 
service until I was of age. 

" Well, I had not a very gay time in Deacon Webb's ser- 
vice : for although he was an honest deacon, and a tolerably 
kind man in his family, he believed in making boys work, 
and understood how to avoid spoiling them by indulgence. 

" So I had plenty of work to do, and an abundant lack of 
indulgence to enjoy. It was consequently a great treat for 
me to get the enormous sum of one or two pennies into my 
possession by any sort of good fortune — a circumstance of 
such rare occurrence, that at the age of eleven I had learned 
to regard money as a blessing bestowed by Providence only 
on a favorite few. 

'-'• Well, I had lived with Deacon Webb three years before 
I knew the color of any coin except vile copper. By an acci- 
dent I learned' the color of gold. That is the story I am 
going to tell you. 

'■'■ One Saturday night, Mr. Webb sent me to the village 
store on an errand; and, on returning home, just about dusk, 
my attention was attracted by a little brown package, lying 
on the road-side. 

'^ I picked it up to examine its contents, without the 

(87) 



88 LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 

slightest suspicion of the treasure within. Indeed, it was so 
light, and the volume of brown paper appeared so large, that 
I undoubtedly supposed that I would likely be made an April 
fool, though it was the month of June. I tore open the folds 
of the paper, however; and discerning nothing, I was on the 
point of throwing it into the ditch, when something dropped 
out of it, and fell with a ringing sound upon a stone. 

" I looked at it in astonishment. It was yellow, round, 
glittering, too bright and too small for a penny; I felt of it, 
I squeezed it in my fingers, I spelled out the inscriptions; then 
something whispered to me that it was a gold coin of incal- 
culable value, and that, if I did not wish to lose it, I had 
better pocket it as soon as possible. 

" Trembling with excitement, I put the coin in my pocket. 
But it would not stay there. Every two minutes I had to 
take it out and look at it. But, whenever I met somebody, 
I carefully put it out of sight. Somehow, I felt a guilty 
dread of finding an owner for the coin. Provided I found 
none, I thought it was honestly mine, by right of discovery; 
and I comforted myself with the sophistry that it was not my 
business to go about the streets, crying, ' Who's lost?' 

^'I went home with the gold in my pocket. I would not 
have the deacon's folks know what I had found, for the 
world. I was sorely troubled with the fear of losing my vast 
and incalculable treasure. This was not all. It seemed to 
me that my face betrayed my secret. I could not look at 
anybody with an honest eye. 

"These troubles kept me awake half the night, and pro- 
jects for securing my treasure by a safe investment, the other 
half. On the following morning, I was feverish and nervous. 
When Deacon Webb, at the breakfast table, said : 

" ' William !' 

" I started, and trembled, thinking the next words would be : 

" ' W^here is that piece of gold you have found and wick- 
edly concealed, to keep it from the rightful owner?' 



LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 89 

'^ ^ I want you to go to Mr. Baldwin's this morning, and ask 
him if he can come and work for me to-day and to-morrow..' 

'' I felt immensely relieved. I left the house, and got out 
of sight as soon as possible. Then once more I took the coin 
out of my pocket, and feasted on its beauty. — Yet I was 
unhappy. Consciousness of wrong troubled me, and I almost 
wished I had not found the sovereign. Would I not be 
called a thief, if discovered ? I asked myself. Was it not as 
wrong to conceal what I had found, as to take the same 
amount originally from the owner's pocket? Was not he 
defrauded the same ? 

" But then I said to myself : 

" Why, if I don't know who the loser is, how can I give 
him his money? It is only because I am afraid Deacon 
Webb will take it away from me, that I conceal it; that's 
all. I would not steal gold ; and if the owner should ask 
me for it, I would give it to him. I apologized thus to my- 
self all the way to Mr. Baldwin's house ; but, after all, it 
would not do. The gold was like a heavy stone to my heart. 
It was a sort of unhappy charm, which gave an evil spirit 
power to torment me. And I could not help thinking I was 
not half so well pleased with my immense riches as I had 
been with a rusty copper penny, which I had found some 
weeks before. Nobody claimed the penny, although I kept 
my good fortune no secret; and I had been as happy as a 
king — or as a king is supposed to be. 

"Mr. Baldwin was not at home; and I returned to the 
deacon's house. I saw Mr. Wardly's horse standing in the 
gate, and I was terribly frightened. Mr. Wardly was a con- 
stable ; and I knew he had come to take me to jail; so I hid 
in the garden until he went away. By that time reason 
began to prevail over cowardice, and I made my appearance 
at the house. The deacon looked angry at me. 

"Now, thought I, feeling faint, he's going to accuse me of 
finding the gold. 
S* 



90 LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 

"But he only scolded me for being so long about my 
errand. I never received a reprimand so willingly. — His 
severe words sounded sweet, I had expected something so 
much more terrible. 

" I worked all day with the gold in my pocket. I wonder 
Deacon Webb did not suspect something, I stopped so often 
to see if the gold was really there ; for, much as the possession 
of it troubled me, the fear of losing it troubled me scarcely less. 
I was miserable. I wished a hundred times I had not found the 
gold. I felt that it would be a relief to lay it down on the 
road-side : I wrapped it in brown paper again, just as I had 
found it. I wondered if ill-got wealth made everybody so 
miserable. 

"At night I was sent again to Mr. Baldwin's, and, having 
found him, obtained his promise to work at Deacon Webb's 
on the following day. 

" It was dark when I went home, and I was afraid of rob- 
bers. I never felt so cowardly in my life. It seemed to me 
that anybody could rob me with a clear conscience, because 
my treasure was not rightfully mine. I got home and went 
trembling to bed. 

"•' Mr. Baldwin came early to breakfast with us. I should 
tell you something about him. He was an honest poor man, 
who supported a large family by hard work. Everybody 
liked him, he was so industrious and faithful ; and, besides 
making good wages for his labor, he often got presents of 
meal, and flour from those who employed him. 

"Well, at the breakfast-table, after Deacon Webb had 
asked the blessing, and given Baldwin a piece of pork, so 
that he might eat and get to work as soon as possible, some- 
thing was said about the * news.' 

" ' I suppose you have heard about my misfortune,' said 
Mr. Baldwin. 

" ' Your misfortune 1' 

"^Yes.' 



LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 91 

"^ Why, what has happened to you V asked the deacon. 

*"I thought everybody had heard of it/ replied Baldwin. 
' You see, the other night when Mr. \Yoodly paid me, he 
gave me a gold piece.' 

" I started, and felt the blood forsake my cheeks, xVll 
eyes were fixed upon Baldwin, however, so my trouble was 
not observed. 

^' 'A sovereign,' said Baldwin, " the first one I ever had in 
my life; and it seemed to me that if I should put it in my 
pocket, like a cent, or half-dollar, I should lose it. So, like 
a goose, I wrapped it in a piece of paper, and stowed it in 
my coat-pocket, where I thought it was safe. I never did a 
more foolish thing. I must have lost the coin in taking out 
my handkerchief ; and the paper would prevent its making 
any noise as it fell. I discovered my loss when I got home, 
and went back to look for it : but somebody must have pick- 
ed it up.' 

" I felt like sinking throush the floor. 

" ' I don't know,' replied the poor man, shaking his head 
sadly, ' He 's welcome to it, whoever he is ; and I hope his 
conscience won't trouble him more than the money is worth ; 
though Heaven knows I want my honest earnings.' 

" This was too much for me. The allusion to my con- 
science brought the gold out of my pocket. I resolved to 
make a clean breast of it, and be honest, in spite of poverty 
and shame. So I held the gold in my trembling hand, and 
said : 

'' ' Is this yours, Mr. Baldwin ?' 

" My voice was so faint that he did not hear me. So I 
repeated my question in a more courageous tone. All eyes 
were turned upon me in astonishment, and the deacon 
demanded when and where I had found the gold. 

" I burst into tears, and confessed everything. I expected 
the deacon would whip me to death. But he patted my 
head, and said, more kindly than was his wont : 



92 



LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 




"Is this yours, Mr. Baldwin?" 

"'Pon't cry about it, William. You are an honest boy^ 
if you did come near falling into temptation. Always be 
honest, my son, and, if you do not grow rich, you will be 
happy with a clear conscience.' 

''But I cried still — for joy. I laughed, too, the deacon 
had so touched my heart. Of what a load was I relieved ' 
I felt then that honesty was the best policy. 

"As for Baldwin, he declared that I should have half the 
money, for finding it; but I wished to keep clear of the 
troublesome stuiF for a time ; and I did. I would not touch 
his offer; and I never regretted it, boy as I was. 

'' Well, I was the deacon's favourite after this. He was 
very kind to me, and trusted me in everything. I was careful 
not to deceive him : I preserved the strictest candor and good 
faith; and that has made me what I am. — When he died, 



LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 93 

he willed me five hundred dollars, with which I came here 
and bought new lands, which are now worth a great many 
sovereigns. But this has nothing to do with my story. 
That is told ; and all I have to add is, I have never regretted 
clearing my conscience of poor Job Baldwin's sovereign.'^ 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. What made the boy, who found the gold coin, feel so much un- 
easiness while he kept the money concealed in his pocket ? 

2. When he saw the constable's horse, what made him fear the 
constable came for the purpose of arresting him? 

3. What made the boy feel so cowardly when he went home at 
dark? 

4. What makes anybody feel cowardly at any time ? 

6. Why did not the boy keep the money, instead of giving it to Mr. 
Baldwin, as no one knew that he had .found it ? 

6. What made the hoy feel so happy when he had given the sove- 
reign to the real owner ? 

7. What affords to anybody, the purest, sweetest pleasure they 
ever enjoy? 

8. Why was not the boy willing to accept of half the money, 
when it was offered to him ? 

9. What is harder to endure than the pains of a guilty con- 
science ? 



NARRATIVE 

An Honest Act. — A rare instance of the upbraidings 
of conscience occurred a few days since, which deserves a 
passing notice. A farmer residing a few miles from a large 
town, calling on one of the principal merchants in the place, 
stated that on a certain day, more than eleven yeare ago, he 
had passed on him a counterfeit $10 bill, describing the note. 
The merchant, who had always been in the habit of preserv- 
ing in a small book kept for the purpose, all counterfeits, as 
well as the date of their reception, on referring to it, found 



94 ' LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 

the bill, as well as the date at which he had received it, cor- 
responding with the farmer's words. The latter, on taking 
hold of the bill, tore it into fragments, with apparent satis- 
faction, and desired the merchant to calculate the interest, 
which having been done, he paid the whole amount in good 
money. He had received the note, the farmer stated, at the 
time, for a genuine one, but did not know of whom, and 
just starting in the world, could not afford to lose so much ; 
and, besides this, his wife argued that he had as good a 
right to pass it off as the person who had imposed it upon 
him. Ever since the day on which he did this thing, his 
conscience had goaded him ; but noiu it would be at ease, 
and he went off as well content as if he had received a large 
fortune. 



10. Why did the farmer remember for eleven years that he had 
passed this counterfeit bill, while the merchant had forgotten it? 

11. Why did the farmer feel so contented, after he had torn up 
the counterfeit bill, and paid good money and interest for it ? 

12. If the farmer had laid the bill aside, as the merchant did, 
would he have probably been troubled ten years in thinking; of his 
loss? Would the loss of one hundred dollars probably have 
troubled him as much, and as long, as this ten dollar counterfeit bill 
did? 

13. If, upon inquiry, the farmer had found the merchant bad also 
passed off the bill, and that there was no opportunity left for him to 
replace the amount with good money, would he have felt just as well 
satisfied as in the present case ? 

14. IIoxc long would his conscience have troubled him, if he had 
not restored the amount due the merchant ? 

15. And after the farmer had paid the full amount of the bill 
and interest, was he still, in any respect, the sufferer for the first 
act of wrong-doing? In what way ? How would the recollection 
of that wrong act always affect him ? 



I 



LISTEN TO CONSCIENCE. 95 

VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. What faculty tells us -when we do riglit, and when we do 
wrong ? ^ 

2. A boy was once in a garden alone, among some plum-trees. 
He had not taken any of the fruit; he was only thinking he would, 
yet every time he heard the least noise like footsteps, or the 
rustling of leaves, he began to tremble. Can any one tell what made 
him tremble ? 

3. Not long since, some boys at play near a school building, when 
they saw a man walking quietly towards them, suddenly started and 
scampered away in all directions. What do you suppose caused 
them to run so ? 

4. If our appetite should demand some fruit, would it be right 
for us to deny our appetite for a time, if we should prefer to 
do so? 

5. If our love of company should prompt us to visit others, would 
it be right to deny ourselves this pleasure, for a time, if we should 
prefer to do so ? 

6. If we feel a very strong anxiety to attend to a particular study, 
or read an interesting book, may we refrain from doing so, if we 
prefer to do so ? 

7. But if comcienee should forbid us to eat or to visit, or to study, 
may we disobey it if we please ? 

8. Which speaks with the highest authority, conscience, or appe- 
tites, or passions ? 

9. When our conscience approves our conduct, how will misfortune 
affect us ? 

10. If, while busily engaged at work, you should accidental]}'', but 
not carelessly, seriously injure your brother, or sister, or friend, 
would conscienee cause you uneasiness and pain ? 

11. But if, in anger, you should injure another, though it should 
be known to no one but yourself, could you always feel calm and 
satisfied with your conduct ? 

12. If your fi-iends and acquaintances should strongly suspect 
you of stealing, when you well knew you were not guilty, how would 
you feel ? 



96 THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 

13. Will conscience alioays admonish us when we are about to do 
wrong ? 

14. If one should continue to disregard the warnings of conscience, 

as in the habit of profane swearing, what do you think the effect 

would be ? 

i 15. But if we succeed in silencinsr conscience now, or for a little 
' . . . 

time, will it ever become aroused, and cause us sorrow and remorse? 

16. Can we forget what we have ever done, when we please to 
do so ? 

17. How long will conscience give us pain for the wrongs we do? 

18. How long will conscience give us pleasure for obeying ita 
commands? 

19. When we find ourselves doing, or about to do, what we are 
afraid to have others see and know^ what course ought we at once 
to take ? 

20. If we were required to suffer the loss of every thing we hold 
dear in this world, or disobey conscience, which would it be better 
for us to do ? 

21. Have you ever heard or read of persons who have suffered a 
cruel death rather than disobey conscience ? 



LESSON XI. 



WE MUST FORGIVE ALL IN.JURIES, AS WE HOPE TO BE 
FORGIVEN. 



NARRATIVE. 

Forgiveness of Injury by a Sailor. — Charles John- 
son, a fine-looking young sailor, was brought before a court, 
to answer for a serious assault upon Joseph Martin, another 
sailor. He pleaded that he would offer no defence. On 
Ae 22d of May, Martin was lying drunk in Hanover street, 
and Johnson being a]so under the influence of liquor, upon 



THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 97 

seeing a brother thus situated, crossed over to arouse him, 
and get him up. Martin resented his benevolent interfer- 
ence, and applied to him a very coarse and irritating epithet. 
Being in liquor himself at the time, Johnson was not in a 
condition to overlook a galling insult from the lips of any 
man, either drunk or sober, and gave Martin a furious kick, 
which accidentally took effect in his eye, and destroyed the 
sight of it. Martin was called upon the stand, to state what 
he knew of the circumstances, and what were his wishes ia 
relation to the disposition of the case. He said, in reply to 
questions put by Judge L. S. Gushing — ^'I do not know 
how we came together, I only recollect what took place after. 
I had not known Johnson before, and he didn't know me. 
So he could have had no grudge against me. His kicking 
me in the eye must have been an accident. I could almost 
swear it was an accident. He could not have intended to 
do so. It is impossible that he could mean to have done it; 
I know he didn't. He has done all he can for me since. 
He has given me all he can with his means. He has given 
me twenty-five dollars, but I don't care for that, and if he 
hadn't got it to give, I shouldn't think any different about it. 
He has done all he could for me. I should be sorry if he 
was punished, for I must have been to blame in the first 
place. If I hadn't spoke to him as I did, he wouldn't have 
kicked me." While poor Martin was uttering these words 
of true forgiveness, he was unable to hold his head up on 
account of the weakness of the remaining eye, which was 
sympathetically affected, and as yet unable to bear even the 
mild light of the court-room. Surely such a man may ven- 
ture to approach the Heavenly Father with the prayer — 
*' Forgive my trespasses, even as I have forgiven him who has 
trespassed against me." — The Judge was deeply impressed 
with Martin's manner, and was satisfied that he desired 
Johnson should not be severely punished; and in considera- 
tion of Martin's wish, and that Johnson had already been 
9 



98 THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 

five weeks in jail, he sentenced him to ten days' imprison- 
mentj and to pay the costs of prosecution. C. A. Andrews 
appeared for the defendant, but, as the Judge remarked, 
" Martin had said, and well said, about all that could, with 
propriety, be advanced in favor of Johnson." 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. What do you perceive in the conduct of Joseph Martin, in the 
preceding narrative, that is singular ? Did Martin do any more 
than was his duty to do ? 

2. Some persons are very prompt, and very willing to forgive inju- 
ries. Was the sailor, Joseph Martin,, in the last narrative, prompt 
or reluctant ? 

3. Perhaps some persons would have thought it more honorable 
in Charles Martin, if he had kicked out the right eye of Johnson? 
Which do you think the more honorable course ? 

4. In what respect do you consider Charles Martin a nobler and 
better man than the rich merchant spoken of, in Lesson I. ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Manly to Resent ; Godlike to Forgive. — A gentle- 
man went to Sir Eardley Wilmot, at one time Lord Chief 
Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, and having stated to 
the Judge an injury he had received, asked him if he did 
not think it manly to resent it. " Yes," said Sir Eardley, '^ it 
would be manly to resent it, but it would be Godlike to for- 
give it !" This reply completely altered the feelings of the 
applicant. 



5, Which is ihQ first feeling with most people, to resent injuries, 
or to forgive them ? 

6. But if the first impulse with any one, is to resent an injury, 
what is to be done ? 



THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 99 

NARRATIVE. 

Washington's Acknowledgment. — In 1755, Wash- 
ington, then a young man, twenty-two years of age, was sta- 
tioned with his regiment at Alexandria. At this time an 
election for public officers took place, and the contest between 
the candidates became close and exciting. A dispute took 
place between Mr. Payne and Washington, in which the 
latter (an occurrence very uncommon with him) became 
warm, and said something which gave Mr. Payne so much 
offence that he knocked Washington down. Instead of flying 
into a passion, and sending Payne a challenge to fight a duel, as 
was expected, Washington, upon mature reflection, finding he 
had been the aggressor, resolved to ask pardon of Mr. Payne 
on the morrow. Accordingly he met Mr. Payne the next 
day, and extended his hand in a friendly manner; ^'Mr. 
Payne,'' said he, " to err is nature ; to rectify error is glory. I 
find I was wrong yesterday, but I wish to be right to-day. You 
had some satisfaction yesterday, and if you think that was 
sufficient, here is my hand, let us be friends." It is hardly 
necessary to state that ever afterwards they were so. 



7. "Would persons 'who think it honorable to fight, be likely to ap- 
prove of GeneralWashington's course, as given in the foregoing nar- 
rative ? 

8. Do you think it was creditable to a man such as General 
Washington, to ask forgiveness, as he did, after he had received an 
injury himself? 



NARRATIVE. 

Anecdote of Mr. Jay. — About the commencement of 
the American Revolution, John Jay acted on a committee in 
a political convention. This committee had power little less 
than unlimited, and Mr. Jay was its chairman. 



100 THE FORGIVENESS OP INJURIES. 

It has been said that "wheu the drums beat, the laws are 
silent 'j^ by which it is meant that war knows no law but 
force. In wielding the extensive powers of the committee, 
however, Mr. Jay seemed to be governed by one fixed law, — 
to use no severity which was not needed to save the liberty 
of his country from being betrayed by its enemies. He 
always disapproved of what seemed unnecessary rigor towards 
the British or tories. On one occasion, his desire to dis- 
countenance cruelty betrayed him into an act of indiscretion. 
Having reason to believe that a zealous committee-man in 
Westchester county had been too severe, he complained of 
him to the convention, and procured a vote of censure against 
him. The censured man met Mr.' Jay some time after, and 
declared that he was innocent of the offence, and complained 
that he had been condemned unheard. Mr. Jay was so 
struck with the justice of this remonstrance, that he instantly 
replied : " You are right, and I was wrong, and I ask your 
pardon." This noble confession turned the committee-man's 
resentment to admiration. Grasping Mr. Jay's hand, he ex- 
claimed : '' I have often heard that John Jay was a great 
man, and now I know it." 

What a lesson this is to those children who are tempted to 
tell lies to hide their faults. 



9. Did Mr. Jay's friends, and the public, probably lose some con- 
fidence in him, for acknowledging his error to the man he had 
injured ? 

10. Do you think more, or less highly of Mr. Jay for confessing 
his fault ? 



NARRATIVE. 

John Hanson's Nigiit-Work. — John Hanson was a 
bluff boy of fifteen. He was a smart, active, fearless fellow ; 
the boys thought a good deal of him, and he thought a good 
deal of himself. On one occasion his father had business 



THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 101 

which called him to a distant city, and he left John to " take 
care " of the family. John felt very proud of his trust, and 
did well for several days, acting under the advice and counsel 
of his mother just as he ought to have done. By and by he 
grew impatient of his mother's restraint, and did many things 
quite independent of her. The younger children did not like 
»his doings and sayings at all; "he orders us round,'' they 
said, " as if he were king.'' At last he took the entire man- 
agement of things, and one day acted not only against his 
mother's wishes, but talked very ill-temperedly to her. 
G-oing to bed that night, he could not sleep. His con- 
duct towards his mother troubled him, and he tossed from 
one side of the bed to the other, trying to get an easy place. 
He blamed the bed and Bridget who made it, and then he 
thought he was sick, and worried along for some time; in 
fact John suspected what the matter really was, only he was 
too proud to own it. He knew it was his treatment of his 
mother that troubled him, and for a long while he tried to 
sleep it oflP, or think of something else, or excuse himself in 
one way or another. Happily John did not succeed. Con- 
science would do its work, and John listened to all it said ; 
and the consequence was, that pretty near midnight, for it 
was as late as that, the boy got up, stole to his mother's 
chamber, and with tears in his eyes and penitence in his 
heart, begged her to forgive him. " And !" he says, now 
that he is a man, "it was the sweetest moment of my life 
when I was forgiven." 

That hour was the turning-point in the boy's life. If he 
that night had hardened himself, the next day he would pro- 
bably have behaved worse than before, and so on and on 
until the bad boy became the bad man. But John yielded 
to the voice of conscience, and he made thorough work of it. 
He confessed his fault, and asked to be forgiven, and experi- 
enced the sweets — (they are real sweets) — of forgiveness. The 
next day, John's management was improved. He was more 



102 THE FOEGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 

kind and considerate towards his brothers and sisters, and 
respectful towards his mother; and he was prepared by it 
afterwards to taste the sweets of God's forgiveness and favor. 
And his word to every boy now is, ^' If you have wronged 
your mother, be sure to own your fault, and ask to be for- 
given. Harden not your hearts^ boys." 



11. Suppose John Hanson had resolved, after going to bed, to 
reform, and treat his mother and brothers and sisters kindly, with- 
out asking forgiveness for what he had already done ; would that 
have been/ws^ as well? 

12. Was it just as much his duty to ask forgiveness of those whom 
he had injured, as it was to reform his conduct ? 

13. In what way would John, himself, have been the sufferer, if 
he had neglected this part of his duty ? 

14. By asking his mother's forgiveness, did he probably find it 
more or less easy to treat her kindly and respectfully afterwards? 

15. It is not stated in the narrative that he apologized to his 
brothers and sisters for his haughty conduct towards them. What 
would you consider to have been his duty in that respect? 



NARRATIVE. 

"I WILL NOT Rise till you Forgive me." — Kin or 

o 

James II. one day lost some important papers relating to a 
marriage that he was trying to bring about between one of 
his sons and a princess of Spain. He continued to hunt for 
these papers, until at last he got into a great rage because he 
could not find them. He went from room to room, looking: 
everywhere, but without success : the papers were not to be 
found. 

At last he met an old Scotch servant by the name of Gib, 
who had been a long time in his service, and he charged him 
with having lost his papers. The old servant told the king 



THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 103 

respectfully, that he knew nothing of them, and certainly- 
had not lost them. But the king grew very angry, and said, 
" Gib, I remember I gave them to you to take care of. What 
have you done with them?^' Gib fell down on his knees 
and declared that he had not received them. This only made 
the king more angry, as his word was contradicted by the 
servant, and he kicked him as he kneeled on the floor at his 
feet. Gib rose from his knees and left the apartment, saying, 
^' I have always been faithful to your majesty, and have not 
deserved such treatment as this. I cannot remain in your 
service under such degradation. I shall never see you again.'' 
He immediately left the place with the intention of return- 
ing no more. 

Not long after the old Scotchman left, the person to whose 
care the king had actually committed the papers, came in 
and presented them to him. The king was ashamed of his 
conduct towards Gib, and forthwith sent some one in pursuit 
of him; but it was some time before he could be found and 
induced to return to the presence of one who had treated him 
so badly. At last he consented, and when he came into the 
room, the king, in his turn, got down upon his knees before 
the servant Gib, and said he would not rise until he forgave 
him. The servant tried to evade the matter, and asked the 
king to rise, but he would not until the old man told him, ii? 
so many words, that he fully forgave him. 

Some may think this was weak in a king, but there is 
something noble and praiseworthy in it. It is an example 
worthy of imitation. If you injure any one, no matter how 
poor or humble, have the magnanimity to confess it, and ask 
pardon for the injury done. 



16. Did King James, in the preceding narrative, do any more than 
was his duty ? 

17. Was he under any more, or less obligation always to do right 
because he was a king ? 



104 THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 

18. Does King James, for this act, deserve more, or less credit 
than John Hanson in seeking his mothers forgiveness ? 

19. Is it an indication of meamiess or greatness, in any one, to 
ask forgiveness of those who are much inferior in station or attain- 
ments ? 



VAKIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. When we are conscious we have wronged others in any manner, 
what is our first duty ? 

2. But suppose others have injured us very much, while our 
wrong to them has been very trifling, what is to be done ? 

3. If others have injured us, and are still disposed to injure us, 
and do not ask or desire us to forgive them, yet, if we are conscious 
of having injured these same persons in any manner, what will be 
our duty ? 

4. But suppose we regard those we have wronged as very much 
our inferiors, and as persons who can never, in any way, injure us 
in return, what shall we do ? 

5. If we believe that those we have wronged will never speak of 
the injuries we have done them, to ourselves, or to any one else, 
what shall we do ? 

6. Is it degrading to any person to ask forgiveness of those he haa 
intentionally injured ? 

7. Do you think more, or less highly of your companions when 
they frankly say they have injured you, and are sorry for it? 

8. Some persons are Tery forward to ask forgiveness when they 
fear they have done wrong, and some are very reluctaiit to do so. 
Which class do you respect the more highly ? 

9. What must be thought of a person who is unwilling to ask 
forgiveness for any of the injuries he has done to others? 

10. Are there any persons in the world who never need forgive- 
ness from others ? 

11. Suppose, after a person has wronged you once, and you have 
forgiven him, that he wrongs you again, and asks to be forgiven ; 
what must you do ? 



HELP ONE ANOTHER. 105 

12. How many times must you forgive those who do you an injury, 
if, for each wrong, they are sorry, and ask to be forgiven ? 

13. If others do you an injury, and do not ask or wish to be for- 
given, what are you to do ? 

14. Some persons say they can forgive, but can never forget in- 
juries. What will 2i forgiving spirit always lead any one to do ? 

15. If we have forgiven those who have treated us unkindly, how 
ought we to act towards them afterwards ? 

16. If we had wronged others and been forgiven, how should we 
wish them to treat us ? 

17. May we ever receive injuries so great, that we may refuse to 
forgive them ? 

18. Have you ever read or heard of any persons who were unwill- 
ing to forgive those who had injured them ? 



LESSON XII. 



LEARN TO HELP ONE ANOTHER. 
NARRATIVE. 

The Disobliging Boy. — Some folks who are very dis- 
obliging, are not aware of it. Now there was Sam Hobbs, as 
pleasant a fellow as any in the school. He was a good 
scholar, diligent and studious, and always ready to join a 
friend on an excursion of pleasure. He was not naturally 
disobliging, but acquired the bad habit in this way. I Ve 
heard a boy many a time say, " Lend me your knife, Sam, 
will you?^-* "I canH, for I haven't any, and besides I want 
to use it myself, '^ he would reply; or if they said, "Let me 
see your knife, Sam, will you?'' he would take it out and 
show it to them, and then say, "There, you've seen it," and 
then back he would put it in his pocket. He always refused 



106 



HELP ONE ANOTHER. 




" There, you 've seen it." 

in such a pleasant way, that they were rarely, if ever of- 
fended, and it was a long time before they discovered how 
often he disobliged them. 

One day when he was absent from school, the boys had a 
public meeting, and agreed unanimously that they would 
convince him how disobliging he was, and in such a way that 
he could have no excuse for being angry. The next day 
when he came, one of the first things he said was, ^' Where 
is the lesson to-day V^ " I can't, for I haven't any, besides, 
I want to use it myself," was the reply. He asked another, 
who holding the book up at such a distance that he could not 
read it, said " There, you've seen it." Every question he 
asked, was answered with one of his old answers. At length 
he began to grow angry ; but when he got to his seat, and 



HELP ONE ANOTHER. 107 

thought of it, lie was surprised to think how often he had 
disobliged his friends; the fact was that he had never thought 
of it before ; but now his eyes were opened, and he felt really 
sorry that he had disobliged persons so much, and he deter- 
mined not to be angry with his schoolmates, let them dis- 
oblige him as they would. He tried not to ask them any 
questions; but he constantly forgot it, and received as an 
answer to all his enquiries, "I can't, for I haven't any; 
besides, I want to use it myself" 

He came to school in the afternoon in great tribulation ; 
he was at the head of his class in Arithmetic, and felt very 
anxious to remain there ; but in his lesson of this day, there 
was a sum that he could not understand. In vain he applied 
to one after another to explain it; — all the answer he got 
was, ^^ I can't, for I have ^nt any; and besides, I want to use 
it myself." There was one scholar who came late ; to him 
he applied, and to his great surprise and joy, his friend did 
the sum : but oh, provoking ! just as he reached his hand 
out for the slate, it was withdrawn, and the old words, " There, 
you've seen it," was the answer. He could bear it no longer; 
but burst into tears. His schoolmates really liked him, and 
when they saw how his feelings were hurt, were very sorry 
that they had carried the joke so far. After school they all came 
and shook hands with him, and told him why they did it. He 
acknowledged that he had done wrong, and after that he 
seldom refused to oblige a person when it was proper; if he 
did, we had but to say — ^^I can't, for I haven't any; besides, 
I want to use it myself," and he would instantly oblige us. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Have you ever observed any difference in persons, respecting 
their willingness to render assistance to others ? 

2. Does any one need to learn to be kind and attentive to the 
■welfare of others, or may one be so without thought, and without 
effort, and without practice ? 



108 HELP ONE ANOTHER. 

3. Did the boy in the narrative need to learn to be obliging to his 
associates, or was he able to be always kind, by simply resolving to 
be so ? 

4. In what manner can persons become so willing and anxious to 
make all happy around them, that they will deny themselves almost 
every comfort to accomplish this object? 

5. If we constantly study how we may help others, may we find 
many, or few opportunities to do so ? 

6. Some persons are so selfish that they seem never once to think 
of the comforts of others. Is it probable that such persons admire 
selfishness in others ? 



-NARRATIVE. 

Help one another. — A traveller who was passing over 
the Alps, was overtaken by a snow-storm at the top of a high 
mountain. The cold became intense. The air was thick 
with sleet, and the piercing wind seemed to penetrate into 
his bones. Still the traveller, for a time, struggled on. But 
at last his limbs were quite benumbed — a heavy drowsiness 
began to creep over him — his feet almost refused to move : 
and he lay down on the snow to give way to that fatal sleep, 
which is the last stage of extreme cold, and from which he 
would certainly never have waked up again in this world. 
Just at that moment he saw another poor traveller coming up 
along the road : the unhappy man seemed to be, if possible, 
even in a worse condition than himself. For he, too, could 
scarcely move ; all his powers were frozen, and he appeared 
just on the point to die. 

When he saw this poor man, the traveller, who was just 
going to lie down to sleep, made a great effort. He roused 
himself up, and he crawled, for he was scarcely able to walk, 
to his fellow-sufferer. 

He took his hands into his own, and tried to warm them. 
He chafed his temples; he rubbed his feet ; he applied friction 
to his body. And all the time he spoke cheering words in his 
ear, and tried to comfort him. 



HELP ONE ANOTHER. lOD 

As he did this, the dying man began to revive; his 
powers were restored, and he felt able to go forward. — But 
this was not all ; for his kind benefactor, too, was recovered 
by the efforts he had made to save his friend. The exertion 
of rubbing made the blood circulate again in his own body. 
He grew warm by trying to warm the other. His drow- 
siness went off, he no longer wished to sleep, his limbs 
returned again to their proper force, and the two travellers 
went on their way together, happy, and congratulating one 
another on their escape. 

Soon the snow-storm passed away ; the mountain was 
crossed, and they reached their homes in safety. 

If you feel your heart cold towards others, and your 
soul almost perishing, try to do something which may help 
another soul to life, and make his heart glad ; and you will 
often find it the best way to warm, and restore, and gladden 
your own. 



7. In the foregoing narrative, in how many ways was the 
traveller, who restored his companion to activity and life, bene- 
fited? 

8. Suppose he had commenced ruhbing his companion, with the 
single desire of warming and benefiting himself, in what manner would 
the traveller then have been benefited ? 

9. Did the traveller who acted so benevolent a part, derive ^rea^er, 
or less benefit to himself, 'by forgetting himself and thinking only of 
saving his companion ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. When your friends, your relatives, or your associates, are un- 
fortunate, or needy, what is your duty ? 

2. But suppose you are needy and unfortunate yourself at the 
same time, what will be your duty ? 

10 



110 HELP ONE ANOTHER. 

3. If you were travelling in a foreign country through which you 
never expected to pass again, would you think it your duty to pay 
any attention to suffering strangers ? How much attention ? 

4. If strangers visit your town or city, do you think of any 
methods of rendering them assistance, though they may not be poor 
or unfortunate ? 

6. Suppose that your friends and associates are neither poor 
nor unfortunate, do you think of any methods of rendering them 
service ? 

6. Very selfish persons are sometimes sick, or otherwise un- 
fortunate, and need kind attentions from somebody. Is it our 
duty to show such persons the same attentions we would give to 
others ? 

7. Some persons are very obliging to particular friends, thinking 
they may receive in return, at some time, as many favors as they 
bestow. Do such persons deserve any credit for generosity ? 

8. Children are sometimes neglected by their associates, or by 
others, because they are not as well dressed, or do not appear so 
well as other children. In what way could you help such unfortu- 
nate children ? 

9. Which would be the more acceptable service to the neglected, 
or unfortunate, to show them attention, kindness, sympathy and 
respect, when they were abused, or to make them presents of money 
or clothing ? 

10. Which do you think would be more in need of your kind 
assistance, those who are so unfortunate as to be poor and ignorant, 
or those who are so thoughtless or reckless as to treat unfortunate 
persons unkindly ? 

11. In what manner could you help those who would thought- 
lessly, or intentionally, injure the feelings of unfortunate children ? 

12. If your kind advice, and your good example, should seem to 
be entirely lost, the first time, upon those who are abusive to the 
unfortunate, would you think it your duty to advise them again 
and again ? 

13. Which would give you more pleasure, to have small favors 
rendered you very cheerfully and willinyly, or greater ones very reluc- 
tantly ? 

14. After you have rendered favors to others, is it well to mention 
the matter to your friends and to strangers ? 

15. Is it well ever to remind those to whom you have made pre- 
sents, or upon whom you have, in any manner, conferred favors, of 
your liberality or kindness ? 



HELP ONE ANOTHER. Ill 

16. "When "we ■would help our friends, or strangers, or the unfor- 
tunate, what must always be our motives in doing so ? 

17. If we help every one we can, willingly, and with no wish nor 
expectation of favors in retui'n, in what way shall we still benefit 
ourselves ? 



WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR? 

Thy neighbor? — it is he whom thou 
Hast power to aid and bless, 

Whose aching heart or burning brow 
Thy soothing hand may press. 

Thy neighbor? — 'tis the fainting poor 
Whose eye with want is dim, 

Whom hunger sends from door to door 5 
Gro thou and succor him. 

Thy neighbor ? — 't is that weary man, 
Whose years are at their brim, 

But low with sickness, cares, and pain ; 
Go thou and comfort him. 

Thy neighbor ? — 't is the heart bereft 

Of every earthly gem; 
Widow and orphan, helpless left — 

Go thou and shelter them. 

Where'er thou meet'st a human form 

Less favored than thy own, 
Kemember, 'tis thy neighbor worm, 

Thy brother or thy son. 



LESSON XIII. 

THE GREATEST CONQUEROR IS THE SELF-CONQUEROR. 
NARRATIVE. 

A Noble Example.— About the year 1776, a circum- 
stance occurred which ought to be written on adamant. In 
the wars of New England with the aborigines, the Mohegan 
tribe of Indians early became friends of the English. Their 
favorite grounds were on the banks of the river (now the 
Thames) between New London and Norwich. The govern- 
ment of this tribe was hereditary in the family of the cele- 
brated chief Uncas. During the time of my father's 
mercantile prosperity, he had employed several Indians of 
this tribe in hunting animals whose skins were valuable for 
their furs. 

Among these hunters, there was one named Zachary, of 
the royal race, an excellent hunter, but as drunken and 
worthless an Indian as ever lived. When he had somewhat 
passed the age of fifty, several members of the royal family, 
who stood between Zachary and the throne, died, and he 
found himself with only one life between himself and the 
empire. At this moment his better genius resumed its 
sway, and he reflected seriously, '^ How can such a drunken 
wretch as I aspire to be a chief of this honorable race ? 
What will my people say ? — and how will the shades of my 
ancestors look down, indignant, upon such a base successor ! 
Can I succeed to the great Uncas ? I will drink no more V 
He solemnly resolved never to taste any drink again but 
water, — and he kept his resolution. 

1 had heard this story, and did not entirely believe it ; for 

(112) 






THE BELF-CONQUEROE. 113 

young as I was, I already partook of the prevailing contempt 
for Indians. In the beginning of May, the annual election 
of the principal officers of the (then) colony, was held at 
Hartford. My father attended officially, and it was customary 
for the chief of the Mohegans also to attend. Zachary had 
succeeded to the rule of his tribe. My father's house was 
situated about mid-way on the road between Mohegan and 
Hartford; and the old chief was in the habit of coming 
a few days before the election, and dining with his brother 
Governor. One day the mischievous thought struck me to 
try the old man's temperance. The family were seated at 
dinner, and there was excellent home-brewed beer on the 
table. I addressed the old chief : 

" Zachary, this beer is excellent — will you taste it ?'^ 

The old man dropt his knife and fork, leaned forward with 
a stern intensity of expression — his black eye, sparkling 
with indignation, was fixed on me : 

"John," said he, "you do not know what you are doing. 
You are serving the devil, boy ! Do you not know that I am 
an Indian ? I tell you I am, and if I should but taste your 
beer, I could not stop until I got to rum, and again become 
the contemptible drunken wretch your father remembers me 
to have been. John, while you live, never again tempt a 
man to break a good resolution." 

Socrates never uttered a more valuable precept. Demos- 
thenes could not have given it in more solemn tones of elo- 
quence. I was thunderstruck. My parents were deeply 
affected; they looked at each other, at me, and at the 
venerable Indian, with deep feelings of awe and respect. They 
afterwards frequently reminded me of the scene, and charged 
me never to forget it. Zachary lived to pass the age of 
eighty, and sacredly kept his resolution. He lies interred in 
the royal burial-place of his tribe, near the beautiful fall of 
the Yantic, the western branch of the Thames, in Norwich, 
on land now owned by my friend, Calvin Goddard, Esq. I 



114 THE SELF-CONQUEROR. 

visited the grave of the old chief lately, and repeated to my- 
self his inestimable lesson. — Col. TrumhulV s Autohiography. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. What do you perceive in the conduct of the Indian that you 
approve ? 

2. In -what respect was this uneducated Indian more successful 
than many who have had excellent advantages for instruction ? 

3. Why did the Indian find it such a fearful thing to attempt to 
keep his appetite under control ? 

4. Why does any one find it so difficult to conquer bad habits ? 

5. Would you expect that an ignorant, uncultivated person, would 
control his appetites and passions, as well as one who has good 
opportunities for instruction ? 

6. If an uneducated Indian, fifty years of age, could conquer his 
bad habits, cannot other persons do so ? — How ? 



EXTRACT. 

The Boy that Smokes. — What shall we say of the boy 
that smokes ? Shall we pronounce any judgment upon him ? 
Shall we say that he is acquiring an evil habit ? that he is 
becoming a slave to a master, who, by and by, will be very 
cruel to him ; that he is on the high road to rowdyism ; that 
he is beginning to be profligate with his money ? Shall we 
say that he is parting with that which is a thousand times 
more valuable than monei/, namely, his power of self- 
control? Shall we say that he can never gain the mos 
brilliant victories, nor wear the glittering crown of th^ self- 
conqueror 1 all this we might, with truth, say, and much 
more. But will it do any good to speak to a boy whose in- 
tellect is so weak, and whose appetite is so strong, that he 
will sacrifice his health, his freedom, and his money, for 
tobacco ? Is it possible that such a boy will ever thank you 
for advising him to overcome an evil habit, or that he will 
ever aspire to the ^M^ingly glory" of a self-conqueror ? 



THE SELF-CONQUEROK. 115 

7. Animals seem to take much pleasure in eating freely of favorite 
kinds of food. Are such enjoyments of an intellectual, or of a brutish 
character ? 

8. Are all enjoyments of eating and drinking of an intellectual, or 
of a brutish character ? 

9. Which do you think the nobler, and purer, and more lasting 
enjoyments ; those which come from exercising the mind, or those 
which come from feeding the body ? 

10. To which class of enjoyments does the pleasure of using to- 
bacco belong? 

11. When a person always resorts to his body for enjoyment, what 
must we think of his intellect ? 



EXTRACT. 

Anger. — It is common among children to get angry with 
their companions, about little, trifling things, which are not 
worth disputing about. We have seen the flushed cheek, 
and the raised arm of a youth, for no other reason than simply 
because he had been contradicted by an associate. But it is 
easy to subdue your angry feelings, if you but make the 
attempt. When irritated, or injured in any way, reflect a 
moment on what your duty is — and be noble-minded enough 
to pay no attention to a supposed insult, and endeavor to 
convince your companion of the impropriety of his conduct. 
For if you sufi'er your passion to be indulged, the evil will 
increase with your years, and it may be with you as it has 
been with hundreds, who, in an unguarded moment, have 
committed an act that forever after deprived them of enjoy- 
ment, or perhaps occasioned their death by violence. 



12. Which would you think the more difficult to conquer, a strong 
appetite, or a violent, hasty temper ? 

13. How would you try to conquer a hasty temper ? How would ^ 
you try to conquer any improper appetite ? 



116 THE SELF-CONQUEROR. 

NARRATIVE. 

The Basket op Peaches. — Half a century ago, that 
excellent man, the Rev. William Woodbridge, established in 
the town, now city, of Newark, a boarding-school for young 
ladies. His residence was on the upper Green, in a large 
stone building, afterwards the property of A. Dey, Esq., and 
attached to the house was a large, deep garden, well filled with 
fruit-trees. 

The venerable preceptor could sit in his back parlor, and 
while unobserved, have a tolerably good view of the entire 
garden, and of all the young ladies who delighted to frequent 
it. He was greatly pleased to see his young and joyous flock 
of charming girls gambolling under the trees and enjoying 
the beauties of nature when robed in the glories of early 
summer, and he did not fail to improve every opportunity to 
enforce some valuable truth. 

It was about midsummer that he noticed one luxuriant 
peach-tree laden with green fruit so plentifully, that the 
boughs fairly bent down under its weight. He naturally 
supposed that the beautiful tinge upon the ripening peach 
might tempt his young friends to taste of the fruit before it 
was fully ripe ; and one lovely afternoon, just before sunset, 
he called the young ladies into the parlor and kindly and 
affectionately expostulated with them on the danger of eating 
unripe fruit, and he promised that those who refrained from 
plucking the green fruit, should have it all when matured. 
Each bright and happy face yielded a full assent to this 
reasonable proposition, and they ran down into the garden 
with unwonted delight. 

This tree, in particular, was an object of great attention, 
and the warm days of summer were fast preparing for this 
happy throng a delicious feast. They daily watched its pro- 
gress towards its maturity, and manifested sometimes no little 
impatience. 



THE SELF-CONQUEROR. 117 

The venerable minister and teacher, as he sat in his back 
parlor, and as the peaches were fast approaching to maturity, 
could sometimes see the uplifted hand of some young lady 
pluciiing the forbidden fruit. He, however, said nothing 
until the time arrived when the peaches were perfectly ripe. 
He had the fruit carefully gathered, and the choicest of it 
filled a large basket. 

He placed it in the back parlor, and called in all the young , 
ladies, and took occasion, on exhibiting it, to enforce the 
propriety of his former injunction, and assured them of the 
gratification it now afi"orded him of presenting to them a 
basket of delicious fruit, fully ripe ; and requested those who 
had not plucked any green peaches from the tree, to come 
forward and partake bountifully of the large supply. 

To his surprise, all remained motionless except one little 
girl. She, with a gentle step, approached the venerable 
teacher. ^' My dear,^^ said he, " have you not eaten a single 
peach?" She laid her little hand upon her breast, and 
sweetly replied, ^^ Not one, sir.'' " Then," said the excellent 
man, "the whole basket-full is yours.'' 

The happy girl took them and made distribution among all 
her school-fellows. How pure the joy which flows from 
obedience, and how satisfying its reward ! 



14. Why was the little girl, in the last narrative, more successful 
in controlling her appetite than her older associates ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. How do those who play skilfully upon musical instruments, 
acquire such control over their fingers or hands ? 

2. How do those who read well, or sing well, acquire such, control 
over their voices. 



118 THE SELF-CONQUEROK. 

3. How does the good scholar obtain such command over his 
thoughts that he can give close attention to study in the midst of 
confusion, if he pleases to do so ? 

4. Will effort and practice enable persons to control their appetites 
and passions, as well as their fingers, or voices, or thoughts ? 

5. Can any one learn uniformly to practise self-control without 
effort and practice ? 

6. When is the best time to commence learning to write, or to 
oing, or to play on musical instruments, — at the age of ten, fifteen, 
twenty, or forty years ? 

7. At what age is the best time to begin to practise habits of self- 
control ? 

8. If you have yielded to your angry feelings once, will you be 
more, or less likely to do so again ? 

9. If you have thoroughly controlled your hasty temper, or your 
angry feelings once, will it be more, or less easy to do it again ? 

10. After you have controlled your appetite once, will it be more, 
or less easy to do it again ? 

11. What difference is there between persons who allow themselves 
to be wholly controlled by anger, and persons at the Insane Asylum, 
who have lost the use of their reason ? 

12. Sometimes when children are called to account for being in a 
quarrel, they try to excuse themselves by saying they cannot help it. 
Do you think this a good excuse ? What excuse should be given ? 

13. Sometimes scholars leave school without permission of parents 
or teachers. They give as a reason for doing so, that other boys 
urged them to go, and they could not help going. Do you think this 
a good reason ? What reason should be given ? 

14. Children sometimes speak unkindly to their mother when they 
are denied any favor. Do you think they might refrain from unkind 
words if they would try ? 

15. Some children, who would not speah unkindly to a mother or 
sister, feel angry if they are denied a favor. Do you think they might 
help their angry feelings if they would try ? 

16. Do some children control their actions and feelings too ? li 
some do, may not all, if they would try ? 

17. How would you try to prevent feeling angry if some one 
should do you an injury ? 

18. Which would you think the greater accomplishment, the 
ability to control your temper well, or the ability to sing ivell? 



SWEAR NOT AT ALL. 119 

19. Which causes you the more unhappiness, all the provocations 
you receive from others, or all the provocations you give others, on 
account of your own hasty temper and angry feelings ? 

20. What accomplishment do you think more desirable than the 
ability to control all your appetites and passions ? 

21. In what manner is any one ever to become a self-conqueror? 



LESSON XIV. 



SWEAR NOT AT ALL. 
NARRATIVE. 

Profane Swearing. — Brother S and myself were 

entertained during the Convention, at the house of a medical 
gentleman, eminent in his profession, but in the habit, it was 
said, of using profane language in ordinary conversation. 
Without having been informed of this habit, no suspicion of 
such a practice would have arisen in our minds j for no real 
Christian ever showed guests greater courtesy, or seemed more 
free from profanity than our gentlemanly host. He did not 
even annoy us with lady-like mincings, putting forth the bud- 
dings of profane swearing in "la me ! — good gracious !" and 
the like. 

But on Sabbath night, our conversation taking a religious 
turn, the subject of profane swearing was incidentally named, 
when I could not resist the temptation of drawing a bow at a 
venture ; and so I said : 

" Doctor, we leave you to-morrow ] and be assured we are 

very grateful to Mrs. D and yourself; but may I say, 

dear sir, we have been disappointed here V 

" Disappointed V 

" Yes, sir, most agreeably '' 



120 SWEAR NOT AT ALL. 



"In what, Mr. C- 



-?'' 



" Will you pardon me, if I say we were misinformed, and 
may I name it ?" 

" Certainly, sir, — say what you wish/' 

" Well, my dear sir, we were told that Dr. D was in 

the habit of using profane language, — but surely you are 
misrepresented " 

" Sir," interrupted the doctor, " I honor you for your candor ; 
yet, I regret to say, you have not been misinformed. I do 
use profane language, perhaps, habitually; but, sir, can you 
think I would swear before religious people, and one of them 
a clergyman V 

Tears stood in my eyes (the frank-heartedness of a gentle- 
man always starts them.,) as I took his hand and replied : 

" My dear sir, you amaze us ! Can it be that Dr. D , 

so courteous and intelligent a man, has greater reverence for 
us, than for GodV' 

" Gentlemen,'' replied the Doctor, with a tremulous voice, 
" I never before saw so forcibly the utter folly of profane 
swearing. I will abandon it forever." 

Reader, are you profane ? Imitate the manly recantation 
of my estimable friend. Dr. D . 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Many persons, like the Doctor, in the preceding narrative, 
accustomed to the use of profane language, suddenly refrain from it 
when coming into the presence of those they consider worthy of 
much respect. Why is this ? 

2. If it is not right or proper to swear before resj>eciable people, 
when and where is it right or proper to swear ? 



EXTRACT. 

A Nest of Vipers. — When you hear any one use profane 
language, you will not wrong him if you conclude that this is 



SWEAE NOT AT ALL. 121 

only one of tlie nest of vipers whicli he carries in his heart; 
and although this is the only one that now hisses, yet each, 
in his turn, is master of the poor wretch who is giving his 
life-blood to feed them. 



narrative. 

Washington's Opinion of Profane Swearing. — 
That the troops may have an opportunity of attending public 
worship, as well as to take some rest after the great fatigue 
they have gone through, the General, in future, excuses them 
from fatigue duty on Sundays, except at the ship-yards, or 
on special occasions, until further orders. The General is 
sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practice of 
profane cursing and swearing, a vice heretofore little known 
in the American Army, is growing into fashion ] he hopes 
the oflScers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to 
check it, and that both they and the men will reflect that we 
can have little hope of the blessing of Heaven on our arms, 
if we insult it by our impiety and folly; added to this, it is a 
vice so mean and low, without any temptation, that every man 
of sense and character detests and despises it. 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIOXS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. "What adyantage does any one derive from swearing? If there 
be none, why do persons practise it ? 

2. Would it be a good excuse for stealing, if the thief should plead 
that it was fashionable ? 

3. Is it a good excuse for swearing, that one is very angry ? 
Would it not be right, or excusable, to lie, or to steal when one is 
angry, if it is so to swear ? 

4. Some persons never think of using a profane word, much less 
do they ever use one. Could not all refrain from doing so, if 
they would ? 

11 



122 SWEAR NOT AT ALL. 

5. After boys have learned to swear, what other bad habits may 
be expected soon to follow, if they are not already formed ? 

6. Would you think it safe for a boy who would swear, to have 
charge of money in a store ? Why not ? 

7. Some persons seem to think that it is an indication of very 
great ability in a person to swear frequently. Do you think that it 
requires a great intellect to utter great oaths f 

8. Other persons seem to suppose that it is a proof of very great 
courage to swear occasionally or frequently. If a man or boy pos- 
sesses any true courage, do you see any necessity for swearing 
about it ? 

9. If profanity is not a proof of greatness or courage, of what is 
it a proof ? 

10. If you had a dear friend, would you think it any mark of true 
greatness wantonly to injure his feeling^ by often speaking his name 
reproachfully ? 

11. Would you have a right to expect that such an one would 
remain your friend, if you thus repeatedly used his name con- 
temptuously ? 

12. Some persons use all the forms of an oath, omitting or clianging 
the most objectionable words. What would you think of the propriety 
of this habit ? 

13. Would you think it respectful to raise your arm and strike a 
blow at the face of a superior, though you were ever so careful not 
to really hit him ? (No more is it safe or proper to use the /orms of 
an oath, though the most irreverent expressions be omitted.) 

14. Some persons in telling a story, or in relating the conversa- 
tion of others, repeat the profane expressions that have been made, 
thinking they add very much to the interest, or show the parties to 
be very loitty. What would you think of the propriety of laughing 
at, or repeating profane expressions? 

15. Do you think that it is your duty ever to reprove those who 
use profane language ? 



LESSON XV. 



BE FAITHFUL TO EVERY TRUST. 



\ _- 




NARRATIVE. 

At His Post. — In tliose scenes of confusion, fligbt, horror, 
and agony, which took place on the Atlantic steamer Arctic, 
■which struck another steamer and sunk in four hours, carrying 
down three hundred persons, there is one act, between the 
time of her accident and her sinking, which looms up with a 
mournful grandeur never to be forgotten — the firing of the 
signal-gun. This duty belonged to Stewart Holland, a young 

(123) 



124 BE FAITHFUL TO EVERY TRUST. 

man of the engineering department, who, when all his com- 
rades deserted the ship, faced the danger and stood at his 
post. 

" About two hours after the Arctic was struck, the firing 
of the gun attracted my attention,^' says the third mate, 
'' and I recollect when I saw Stewart, it struck me as re- 
markably strange that he alone, of all belonging to the 
engineering body, should be there. He must have had a 
good chance to go in the chief engineer's boat, and be saved ; 
but he did not, it seems, make the slightest exertion to save 
himself, while there was duty to be done on shipboard. I 
recollect that, about an hour before the ship snnk, I was 
hurriedly searching for spikes with which to make a raft. I 
had just passed through the saloon ; on the sofa were men 
who had fainted, and there were many of them, too : the 
ladies were in little groups, clasped together, straugely quiet 
and resigned. And as I came out again, the scene that pre- 
sented itself was one that I hope never to see again. Here 
and there were strong, stout men on their knees in the atti- 
tude of prayer; and others, who, when spoken to, were 
immovable, stupefied. In the midst of this scene, Stewart 
came running up to me, crying, ' Dorian, my powder is out, 
I want more, give me the key.' 'Never mind the key,' I 
replied, ' take an axe and break open the door.' He snatched 
one close beside me, and down into the ship's hold he dived, 
and I went over the ship's side to my raft. I recollect dis- 
tinctly his appearance as he once more hailed me from the 
deck ; the right side of his face was black with powder, and 
when he spoke, his face seemed to me to be lighted up with 
a quiet smile. ^' 

During all those terrible hours of anxiety and dread, his 
signal-gun boomed over the wild waste of waters, telling its 
fearful story of distress, of danger, and of death. His com- 
rades fled, strong men quailed, and cries of agony went up to 
heaven, but Stewart never Jiindicd ; and his last act when 



BE FAITHFUL TO EVERY TRUST. 125 

the ship went down, was to fire his signal-gun, in the linger- 
ing hope that some passing sail might yet learn their danger 
and come to their rescue. " His whole conduct can be 
accounted for by the simple word duty, and nothing else/' 
It was this which gave him his calmness^ and inspired him 
with courage, and made him superior to every consideration 
of personal safety, causing the name of Stewart Holland to 
be pronounced all over this great land with admiration and 
reverence. 

Let every boy know and feel the sacred responsibility which 
is attached to the post of duty, and let him never desert it. If 
all the men composing the crew of the ill-fated Arctic had stood 
by the ship and her captain, and manfully done their duty, 
every passenger might have been provided with the means of 
escape, either in the boats or on rafts, and the public would 
have had the satisfaction of knowing that all had been done 
that brave and faithful men could do for the safety of the 
unfortunates. As it was, their posts of duty were deserted, 
and hundreds consequently found an ocean grave. Let it 
early in life become the watchword of every boy, " Faith fid to 
duty:' 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. What do you perceive in the conduct of Stewart Holland, that 
you admire ? 

2. When it became dangerous for him to stand at his post, what 
would you have advised him to do ? 

3. After the other oiEcers had deserted their respective places, 
what would you have advised Stewart Holland to do ? 

4. There was great excitement, confusion, and danger after the 
accident to the vessel : were all the officers equally excusable on this 
account, for deserting their several stations ? 

5. On board this sinking vessel, besides the passengers, consisting 
of men, women, and children, were also the officers and sailors. 
How would you have arranged the order for all these persons to leave 
the vessel? Who should have left first? Who last? 

11* 



126 BE FAITHFUL TO EVERY TRUST. 



NARRATIVE. 

''I'll do it Well.'' — A gentleman in New England 
gave me the following interesting account of his own life. 
He was an apprentice in a tin manufactory. When twentj- 
one years old, he lost his health, so that he was entirely un- 
able to work at his trade. Wholly destitute of means, he 
was thrown out upon the world, to seek any employment for 
which he had strength. 

He said he went out with the determination, that whatever 
he did, he would do it well. The first and only thing he 
found he could do, was to black boots and scour knives in a 
hotel. This he did, and did it well, as gentlemen now living 
would testify. Though the business was low and servile, he 
did not lay aside his self-respect, or allow himself to be de- 
graded by his occupation. The respect and confidence of his 
employers were soon secured, and he was advanced to a more 
lacrative and less laborious position. 

At length his health was restored, and he returned to his 
legitimate business, which he now carries on very extensively. 
He has accumulated an ample fortune, and is training an 
interesting family, by giving them the best advantages for 
mental and moral cultivation. He now holds an elevated 
position in the community in which he lives. 

Young men who may chance to read the above statement, 
should mark the secret of success. The loliole character of 
the man, of whom I have spoken, wixs formed and directed by 
the determination to do well whatever he undertook. 

Do the thing you are doing, so well that you will be 
respected in your place, and you may be sure it will be said 
to you, "Go up higher.'' 



6. Was it degrading for this man to ** black boots and scour 
knives," -when it was the only employment he could find? 



BE FAITHFUL TO EVERY TRUST. 127 

7. When persons are not faithful in Utile things, what would you 
expect of them in greater trusts ? 

8. Is it degrading to any one to attend, faithfully, to the smallest 
duty ? 

9. Which "will the sooner create confidence with employers, fine 
clothes or close attention to their interests ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Prompt Clerk. — I once knew a young man (said 
an eminent preacher, who was commencing life as a clerk. 
One day his employer said to him, " Now, to-morrow that 
cargo of cotton must be got out and weighed, and we must 
have a regular account of it.^^ 

He was a young man of energy. This was the first time 
he had been intrusted to superintend the execution of this 
work : he made his arrangements over-night, spoke to the 
men about their carts and horses, and, resolving to begin very 
early in the morning, instructed all the laborers to be there 
at half-past four o'clock. So they set to work, and the 
thing was done; and about ten or eleven o'clock in the day, 
his employer came in, and, seeing him sitting in the counting- 
house, looked very blank, supposing that his commands had 
not been executed. 

'^I thought," said he, ^^you were requested to get out that 
cargo of cotton this morning.'^ 

'' It is all done," replied the young clerk, " and here is the 
account of it." 

He never looked behind him from that moment — never ! 
His character was fixed, confidence was established. He 
was found to be the man to do the thing with promptness. 
He very soon came to be the one that could not be spared — 
he was as necessary to the firm as any one of the partners. 
He was a religious man, and went through a life of great 
benevolence, and at his death was able to leave his children 
an ample fortune. 



128 BE FAITHFUL TO EVERY TRUST. 

10. We are sometimes in the service of others when they can 
not know whether we are attending faithfully to their interests or 
not. What rule of conduct should we observe under such circum- 
stances ? 

11. If the " prompt clerk" had commenced his labors at 7 o'clock 
and finished at 12 o'clock, would his employer, probably, have been 
satisfied ? 

12. What difference would it have made in the future success of 
the clerk ? 

VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Have you ever read or heard of any one who has stood at 
his post of duty, even when danger and death seemed to be very 
near ? Whom ? 

2. Have you ever known or heard of any one who deserted the 
post of duty for any reason ? Whom ? 

3. Do you think that persons ought ever to remain at a post of 
duty, when, by doing so, their own lives would be greatly endangered ? 
Under what circumstances ? 

4. Duties are sometimes very disagreeable, when there is no danger 
attending their performance. What is to be done in such a case ? 

5. If your father or mother were dangerously ill, and the 
attending physician should omit to call for one day, because the 
weather was very stormy, would you think he was faithful to his 
duty? 

6. Suppose the physician should omit to call for one day when 
your relative was dangerously ill, because he had a chance to make 
one hundred dollars by staying at home — do you think this would be 
right ? 

7. Suppose, instead of coming himself, he employs some other 
physician to attend for one day, because he has a chance to make 
fifty dollars by absenting himself, would this be faithfulness to duty ? 

8. But if your friend should recover just as well as if the regular 
physician had attended every day, would it make any difference 
respecting his faithfulness in the case ? 

9. Suppose a boy who is employed in a store, locks the door and 
goes away fifteen minutes to see a show in the streets, does he do 
his duty ? 



BE FAITHFUL TO EVERY TRUST. 129 

10. But if no one calls in his absence, though he has been out of 
sight of the store fifteen minutes, does it make any difference re- 
specting his faithfulness ? 

11. If a boy were directed by his father to carry a letter to the 
Post Office and hand it to the Post Master, and, because he wished 
to see the fire companies on parade, he should send the letter by 
anotlier boy, would he be doing his duty ? 

12. But suppose the letter should really be placed in the Office 
Just as soon, and just as safely, as he could have done it himself, j 
would the son have done his duty ? 

13. Instead of wishing to see the parade of fire companies, sup- 
pose that he saio a storm coming up, and that he should send the 
letter by another boy, lest he should be caught in the rain, would he 
be doing his duty ? 

14. If, while on his way to the Post Office, he is informed by an- 
other boy that the Office is closed, and that he cannot get in, what 
ought he to do ? 

15. Which deserves the more honor, the person who holds a 
very small trust, and yet is very faithful to that trust, or a person 
who holds a position of great importance, and is neglectful of its 
duties ? 

16. If your parents were not living, and some kind friend, 
anxious for your welfare, should propose to pay your expenses at 
school, and you should accept the offer — what would be your duty 
respecting the improvement of your opportunities ? 

17. Suppose that, in attending the school under the circumstances 
stated above, you should find its regulations very reasonable, what 
would be your duty in regard to yielding entire obedience to the 
order and discipline of the school ? 

18. Instead of being sent to school by some friend, suppose you 
are sent by your parents, what will be your duty with respect to 
the improvement of your opportunities? What with respect to 
obedience to the discipline of the school ? 

19. In which case would you think the obligation the stronger to 
do the best in your power — when sent to school by your parents, 
or when, being an orphan, you are sent at the expense of some kind 
friend ? 



LESSON XVI. 



BE NEAT. 
NARRATIVE. 

Neatness a Fortune. — In a recent conversation with a 
wealthy merchant, he remarked that whatever he had ac- 
quired was owing, in a great measure, to the fact that his 
mother had taught him to be neat when a boy. 

His story, as nearly as I can recollect it, was as follows : 

" When I was six years old, my father died, leaving 
nothing to my mother but the charge of myself and two 
younger sisters. After selling the greater portion of the 

household furniture, she took two small upper rooms in W 

street, and there, by her needle, contrived in some way — 
how, I cannot conceive, when I recollect the bare pittance 
for which she worked — to support us in comfort. Fre- 
quently, however, I remember that our supper consisted 
simply of a slice of bread, seasoned by hunger, and rendered 
inviting by the neat manner in which our repast was served, 
our table being always spread with a cloth, which, like my 
mother's heart, seemed ever to preserve a snow-white purity. 

^^ Speaking of those days reminds me of the time when we 
sat down to the old table one evening, after my mother had 
asked the blessings of our Heavenly Father on her defence- 
less little ones, in tones of tender pathos, that I remember 
yet, and which, if possible, I think must have made angels 
weep. She divided the little remnant of her only loaf, into 
three pieces, placing one on each of our plates, but reserving 
none for herself I stole around to her side, and placed my 
portion before her, and was about to tell her that I was not 
hungry, when a flood of tears burst from her eyes, and she 

(130) 




BE NEAT. 



131 



clasped me to her bosom. Our meal was left untouched : we 
sat up late that night, but what we said, I cannot tell. I 
know that my mother talked to me more as a companion than 
a child, and that when we knelt down to pray, I consecrated 
myself to the Lord, and to serve my mother. 

" But,'' said he, " this is not telling you how neatness made 
my fortune. It was some time after this that my mother 
found an advertisement in the newspaper, for an errand-boy 

in a commission store in B street. Without being 

obliged to wait for my clothes to be mended, for my mother 
kept them in perfect order, although, on minute inspection, 
they bore traces of more than one patch; without being 
obliged to wait even to black my shoes, for my mother always 
kept a box of blacking, with which my shoes must be polished 
before I took breakfast; without waiting to arrange my hair, 
for I was obliged to observe from my earliest youth, the most 
perfect neatness in every respect, my mother sent me to see 
if I could obtain the situation. With a light step, I started 
off, as I had for a long time wished my mother to allow me 
to do something to assist her. 

" My heart beat fast, I assure you, as I turned out of W • 

into B street, and made my way along to the number 

my mother had given me. I summoned all the courage I 
could muster, and stepped briskly into the store, found my 
way to the counting-room, and made known the reason of ray 
call. The merchant smiled, and told me that there was 
another boy who had come in a little before me he thought 
he should hire. However, he asked me some questions, and 
then went and conversed with the other boy, who stood in 
the back part of the office. The result was, that the lad who 
had first applied was dismissed, and I entered the merchant's 
employment, first as an errand-boy, then as a clerk, and after- 
wards as a partner. At his decease he left me the whole 
business, stock, &c. After I had been in his service some 
years, he told me the reason he chose me in preference to the 



132 BE NEAT. 

other boy, was because of the general neatness of my person, 
■while in reference to the other lad, he noticed that he had 
neglected properly to turn down his vest. To this simple 
circumstance has probably been owing the greater part of my 
success in business/^ 

Will not all my young friends who read this narrative of 
the successful merchant, form, like him, in their youth habits 
of neatness ? Remember that no one will love a slovenly boy 
or girl, and if you would secure the respect of your acquaint- 
ances, you must be very careful in respect to your personal 
appearance. Purity and cleanliness of person are indispensa- 
ble to the highest purity of character. 

The simple turning down of your vest may not be your 
first step towards a fortune, but the habit of neatness, early 
formed, is sure to be of great service to you through life. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Was not the poverty of the mother who was mentioned in the 
last narrative, as good an excuse for dirty children as can generally 
be offered ? Did it cost this good mother a very great sum to keep 
her children neat ? 

2. Is it probable that the habits of cleanliness which these chil- 
dren practised, was any cause of suffering to them ? 

3. When the boy appeared at the counting-room of the merchant, 
why was he chosen in preference to the one who came first? 

4. Supposing that the successful boy Avas detained at home five 
minutes longer than the other, to have his clothes brushed, and his boots 
blacked — in that case, what lesson would the example of this lad 
teach us ? 

5. Which would you sooner employ, a boy who was plainly, yet 
neatly clad, or one who had a slovenly appearance, though dressed 
in fine clothes ? 



EXTRACT. 

Personal Appearance of Children. — Some writer, 
whose name we do not know, holds the following rational 
di!>coursc in relation to the dressing of children : 



BE NEAT. 133 

Send two children into the street : let one be a bare- 
headed, bare-footed ragamuffin, with a face which, perhaps, 
never had but one thorough washing, and hair that never knew 
a comb, — nobody would think of giving him a hand to help 
him through any mud-puddle, or over any gutter ; and if he 
should get run over in the street, men would say, perhaps, 
that he was a dirty boy, and might have got out of the way. 
On the other hand, send a sweet girl into the street, looking 
like a new-blown rose, with the glistening dew-drops hang- 
ing from its leaves, — her face as clean as air, as transparent 
as her untainted mind; and there is not a chimney-sweep 
who would not, if he dared touch her, wipe his hands upon 
his clothes, and with delight carry her over the crossings, 
rather than she should soil even the sole of her slipper. 

All children may not be equally pretty. Yet all may be 
clean and tidy in their appearance. 



6. When is it proper to begin to practise habits of neatness ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Clean Home. — What a beautiful sight is a clean 
home ! I am going to talk a little to my readers about one 
that is very clean and neat; and I hope they will admire it 
so much, as to try and make their own (if they ever have one,) 
as much like it as possible. 

My sister and myself once called at a cottage in the village 
to inquire after a man who we were told was ill. It so hap- 
pened that we did not know the family, but when we heard 
that the man was ill, and unable to work, we stopped to make 
inquiries. On opening the door, I shall never forget what 
pleasure we felt. They were at tea. The cloth on the table 
was snow-white, the cups and saucers bright and clean, and 
the loaf, the morsel of butter, the knife and the spoons were 
12 



134 BE NEAT. 

just as clean too. The husband's shirt, just ironed, was air- 
ing at the fire, and was as snowy as the table-cloth. The 
whole kitchen was so clean, the chairs, dresser, clock-case, 
&c., shone so brightly, and every thing had an air of so much 
neatness, that our first words were words of delight at such a 
scene. The poor man had been out of work some time, and 
they had two or three little children, yet the wife could not * 
be dirty or untidy, and the very scanty food they possessed 
was served up comfortably. The man looked quite happy 
and contented under his trial; he seemed better pleased with 
a clean tea-table than with a dirty brawling beer-house, and 
smiled with pleasure at the praise we could so well bestow on 
his wife's good management. To something my sister said, 
he replied, ^'I never have come home to an untidy house, 
ma'am, since I 've been married. I do not know what a dirty 
house is." What a happy thing it would be for every hus- 
band to be able to say this ! 



7. Which would you think the more desirable, a very costly home, 
yet slovenly and dirty, or a very plain home, yet always neat and 
clean ? 

8. In which home would you expect families to be the happier? 
In which the more healthy? In which the more cheerful and 
obliging to each other ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF EIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Is it probable that persons, -who are not themselves neat in 
their habits, like to see neatness in others ? 

2. Some persons do not give much attention to personal cleanli- 
ness for the reason that it takes so much time. Do you think this 
a good excuse ? 

8. Other persons excuse themselves from attention to cleanliness 
because they &ve poor. Is poverty any excuse for filthy habits? 



RIGHT MOTIVES. 135 

4. Do you suppose that persons who are very particular in their 
habits of cleanliness, can perform as much labor or as much study, 
as others? 

5. But some very useful employments make it necessary that 
those who follow them should be in the midst of smoke, or dust, or 
dirt, for a time. What advice would you give to such persons, 
respecting cleanliness and neatness ? 

6. What advice on the subject of neatness and personal appear- 
ance, would you give to children, or to the unfortunate, who desire 
kind attentions from friends or from strangers? 

7. What advantages are there in having a verj' neat school-room ? 

8. What slovenly and dirty habits ought pupils to avoid in the 
school-room ? 

9. If pupils should never come into the school-room with dirt 
upon their shoes or clothes, never spit upon the floor, and never 
allow papers or litter of any kind about their seats, in what ways 
would the teacher and all of the pupils be thereby benefited ? 

10. Wli ere would you first look for virtuous conduct, — among 
persons of very neat personal appearance, or among those of careless, 
slovenly, filthy habits ? 

11. Which would you think the more becoming in a lady or gen- 
tleman, a very expensive dress — yet soiled with dirt and grease, — 
or a ver^r plain dress, yet scrupulously neat and clean ? 



LESSON XVII 



RIGHT ACTIONS SHOULD SPRING FROM RIGHT MOTIVES. 



NARRATIVE. 

The way with some People. — Deacon S once era- 
ployed a cobbler to take a few stitches in a boot, for which 
service he was asked half a dollar. The demand was consi- 
dered exorbitant; but the deacon was not a man to have 
trouble with his neighbor on a trifliui?- matter, so, without a 



136 RIGHT MOTIVES. 

word of objection, the coiu was paid. "All will come round 
right in the end/' he said to himself. 

Next morning, the deacon, who was a farmer, was on his 
way to his field with oxen and plough, when the cobbler came 
out of his shop and accosted hira. 

" Good morning, deacon. You're just the man I hoped 
to see. The fact is, V\e hired the field yonder, and am go- 
ing to sow it with wheat ; but being no farmer myself, I 
wish you would stop and give me a little insight into the 
business." 

The other was about to excuse himself, for he felt particu- 
larly anxious to finish a piece of ploughing that day, which 
he could not do if detained at all, when remembering the 
boot-mending, "The affair (thought he) is coming right, quite 
soon. Here is an opportunity for illustrating the Golden 
Kule, and returning good for evil. I will render the as- 
sistance he needs, and when he asks what V to pay, will 
answer, 'Nothing, sir, nothing. I never make account of 
these little neighborly kindnesses/ That will remind him 
of yesterday," 

So the deacon readily consented to do as requested, and 
going over to the field, commenced and finished sowing a 
bushel of grain ; scarcely thinking, meantime, of how his 
team was standing idle in the cool of the day ; but glorying 
in anticipation of the smart his neighbor would suffer from 
the living coals about to be heaped upon his bead. The 
employer, who, seated on a pile of stones in the centre 
of the field, had watched the process in silence, now rose to 
his feet, and very deliberately advanced towards the obliging 
farmer. 

" Now for my revenge," thought the latter, seeing him 
about to speak ; but the other only carelessly remarked, " It 
isn't much to do a thing when one knows how." 

The deacon made no reply, but stood awaiting the question, 
"How much do you ask for your labor?" He waited in 



RIGHT MOTIVES. 137 

vain, however; the question was not asked. — the other 
began to speak on indifferent topics; and the farmer, unwill- 
ing to lose more time, turned and hurried away to where he 
had left his team. He had gone some distance along the 
road, when a voice was heard calling, *' Hallo, deacon I Hold 
on there a minute.^' 

The deacon turned his head, and his neighbor, the cobbler, 
beckoned him back. 

^' He's just thought of it," said the deacon to himself, half 
impatient at being again stopped. ^^ My triumph is to cost 
about as much as 't is worth, but I '11' have it after all. Urge 
as he may, I won't take a single dime." 

So saying, he secured his oxen to a post by the roadside, 
and ran back as far as the wall, against the opposite side of 
which the cobbler was carelessly leaning. 

^^ Why how you puff, deacon ; there's no special haste call- 
ed for. I merely thought to ask whether you don't imagine 
we shall have rain soon. You farmers pay more attention to 
these things than we mechanics do. " 

The deacon coughed a full minute, and then answered that 
he "really couldn't say, but it seemed pretty near cool enough 
for snow :" and giving this opinion, he once more set his face 
farmward ; musing as he went, whether it might not have been 
well to have attached to the Grolden Rule a modifying clause, 
suited to dealing with such people as his neighbor of the awl 
and last. 

The deacon loves, to this day, to tell the story and laugh 
over it; but he never fails to add, " Tfe?/, well, it ended just 
as it should ; inasmuch as I was wickedly calculating on rejoic- 
ing over my neighhor's humiliation.'^ 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Was it right in Deacon S. to assist his neighbor in somng his 
Tvheat ? 

12* 



138 RIGHT MOTIVES. 

2. Would it have been right for him to charge his neighbor a 
reasonable price for his services ? 

3. But the deacon did not charge his neighbor anything for the 
assistance he rendered him. Do you see anything wrong in the 
deacon's conduct? 

4. If the Deacon really intended to render his neighbor some 
assistance, in return for an injury he had received, with what motive 
should he have undertaken to do so ? 



I 



NARRATIVE. 

Motives. — There was a boy who had received twenty- 
five cents on a holiday, with permission to go to a neighboring 
village. On his way he met with a distressed family, and his 
feelings became so much interested that he gave them his 
twenty-five cents He was influenced by compassion, — a 
good motive. When his father heard of this conduct, he was 
so pleased, that he gave him half a dollar. The next time 
the boy met with an object of charity, he gave assistance in 
hope that when he should tell his father, he would receive 
more than ho gave. This, you see, was a selfish motive. 

The first rule by which you are to judge of your motives 
is this, Is it right P If it is not right, you of course must 
not act upon it. The next rule that I would suggest is this, 
— Should I be willing to have this motive known? If you 
should be unwilling to have it known, you may be sure it is 
not a lofty one. 

Remember that God can see into your heart, that he knows 
the real motives of all your actions. 

This purity of motive, sincerity of soul, cannot be acquired 
without great care, and help from on high. Very often 
should you offer the prayer of David, " Create within me a 
clean heart, God.'' Persons who attain it, will always 
have friends. People know that such persons can be 
depended upon. They know that they can trust their pro- 
fessions. 



EIGHT MOTIVES. 139 

5. Wliat do you perceive that was right in the boy's conduct, as 
stated in the preceding narrative ? What do you perceive that was 
wrong? 

6.' Was it right for the boy to give his own money, in the last case, 
to help the needy ? 

7. When we help the unfortunate, what should always be our 
motive for doing so ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Drayman. — An honest drayman was standing on the 
wharf, when a little boy fell into the water. No one exerted 
himself to rescue the child, and the stream was fast bearing 
him away. The poor drayman seeing this, sprang into the 
water, swam to the child, took him in his arms and brought 
him safely to the wharf. He put him in the care of ono 
who promised to see him safely home, while the drayman 
resumed his labors as if nothing had happened. On his 
return home, the drayman's family were surprised at his damp 
appearance, and made a number of inquiries, to which he gave 
unsatisfactory answers, and it was passed off as a subject not 
worth farther notice. About two weeks after this occurrence, 
on going home, he found three persons waiting his arrival — a 
man with his wife and child. " That is the man, father, that 
is the man V exclaimed the boy. The father sprang from his 
seat and threw his arms around the neck of the drayman, and 
expressed his gratitude in tears. 

'* Come, sir," said he, " come and visit a family which you 
have saved from destruction — take the blessings of a father 
and mother, who, but for your intervention, would have been 
overwhelmed in sorrow — whose only son you have rescued 
from a premature death.''' 

This was the first knowledge the drayman's family had of 
the circumstance. When the conversation turned on his 
silence, he made no other reply than to read the following 
verses from the Bible : 



140 RIGHT MOTIVES. 

^' Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be 
seen of them, otherwise ye have no reward of your Father 
who is in Heaven. — Therefore when thou doest thine alms, 
do not sound a trumpet before thee as the hypocrites do in 
the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory 
of men ; verily I say unto you, they have their reward. 
But when thou doest thine alms, let not thy left hand 
[here the drayman cast a glance round upon his family,] 
know what thy right hand doeth, that thine alms may be 
in secret, and thy Father, who seeth in secret, shall reward 
thee openly.'' 

Sach a spirit of Christian benevolence, we desire to be pos- 
sessed by every child. We should not value our own conve- 
nience — our life even — if we can save another from death. 
Nor should we spread abroad our good deeds. It is sufficient 
for us to know that our heavenly Father approves of what we 
have done. He knoweth when we are useful, and he will not 
let us lose our reward. 



8. How many things do you see in tlie conduct of the di-ayman 
to approTe ? 

9. AVhile the drayman tried to conceal this noble deed from even 
his nearest friends, what would you infer respecting his motives in 
saving the child ? 

10. But if he had gone immediately to the child's father and in- 
formed him of all the facts, what would you have suspected might 
have been his motives in saving the child from drowning ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. May persons be guilty of great crimes, and yet do no wrong ? 

2. If a person should try to break into your house to steal your 
goods or your money, but should not succeed because he was dis- 
covered, would he bo guilty of stealing ? Why ? 



■RIGHT MOTIVES. 141 

3. If a person should iry to take the life of another, but should 
not succeed becaiise he Tvas so closely watched, would that person 
be guilty of murder? 

4. Suppose you had been late to school this morning, and you had 
made up your mind that, if called upon for an excuse, you would 
give some other reason than the true one; but you did not happen to 
be called upon, Yfould you be guilty of any wrong ? 

5. Suppose you had whispered this morning, and, fearing you 
would suffer some penalty if you confessed it, you had made up your 
mind that if the scholars who had whispered were called upon to 
arise, you would not do so: but such scholars were not called on. 
Would you be guilty of any wi'ong ? 

6. Suppose you are very anxious to see the fire companies on 
parade, and you determine that if your mother will not let you go, 
you will run away and see them. But when you ask her, she says 
" Yes, you may go." If you then go, will you be guilty of any dis- 
obedience to your mother ? 

7. May persons perform virtuous deeds without deserving credit 
for them ? 

8. If you should be particularly kind and obliging to your parents 
for a few days, because you intended to ask of them a particular 
favor for yourself, would you deserve any credit for the virtue of 
obedience ? 

9. If you should save a child from being burned to death in a 
building, would that be a virtuous deed ? 

10. But if you should risk your own life to save a child from being 
burned to death, knowing that the child's father was very wealthy, 
and expecting that you would be richly rewarded, would you deserve 
any credit for virtuous conduct ? 

11. Suppose a father should privately say to his sons, ".John, if 
you will help me in the field to-day, I will give you fifty cents at 
night," and to James, privately, "If you will help me in the field 
to-day, you may go a hunting to-morrow," and to Henry, privately, 
" If you will help me to-day, you may go with me to visit your cousins 
next week," and to George, privately, "I have much to do to-day: 
are you willirg to help your father in the field?" and he cheerfully 
says, " Yes, sir,'' and all work through the day, John for money, 
James for the pleasure of hunting, Henry for the promised pleasure 
of a visit, and George because he loves his father : — Which works from 
the best motive, and which deserves the most credit? 

12. Pupils sometimes study very diligently with the single pur- 



142 EIGHT MOTIVES. 

pose of being first in their class. Is there any otner motive which 
should incite a scholar to study ? Is there any higher motive ? 

13. Persons sometimes refrain from angry feelings and unkind 
words, lest they should offend the company present, or lose, thereby, 
some favorite enjoyment. "What other motive should cause one to 
control angry feelings and refrain from unkind words ? What higher 
motive ? 

14. May persons do very Utile, and yet deserve great credit for 
virtuous conduct? 

15. If a rich man, desiring to help a poor family, should give 
them ten dollars to buy food and clothing, and a very poor man, just 
as anxious to help the same family, should give them ten cents for 
the same purpose, which of the men do you think would deserve the 
most credit ? 

16. If a boy, very anxious to help -his poor father, should earn 
five dollars for him in a month, and bring it home to him, and a little 
sister, just as anxious to help her mother, should work just as hard, 
one month, and earn two dollars for her, which do you think would 
dcsei've the most credit ? 

17. If a boy, wishing to help his father, should york a month and 
earn five dollars for him, while the sister, who had undertaken to 
earn just as much for her mother, should be taken sick, and use all 
her money for medicine and assistance, which would deserve the 
more credit? 

18. If you were to do well from good motives, at the time, and 
should afterwards boast of your deeds, or take pains to have others 
know them, would you still deserve credit for doing well ? 

19. What is i\iQ first question to ask ourselves when we are about 
to perform any action ? 

20. If we have decided that the action will be eight, what rule 
should we observe in speaking of our good deeds ? 



LESSON XVIII. 



LABOR CONQUEHS ALL THINGS. 







NARRATIVE. 

The PanoramaBoy. — Some years ago, a boy was sitting 
with folded hands, in a tiny skiff, on the bosom of the mighty 
Mississippi. The setting sun was shining on the water, and 
on the beautiful banks of the river, rich with variously colored 
foliage. So full was the mind of the boy with wonder and 
delight that the boat glided on unheeded, while he still sat 
eazins on the banks of the river. He had heard that Ame- 
^ ^ (143) 



144 LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 

rica was ricber ia beautiful scenery than any other country in 
the world, and as he looked around him he believed the say- 
ing, and then came into his mind the desire and resolve to 
become an artist, that he might paint the magnificent scenes 
of his native land. 

This boy's name was Banvard, and the resolution he made 
to paint the largest picture in the world was never given up 
till it was accomplished. When we think for a moment of a 
fatherless, moneyless lad, painting a picture covering three miles 
of surface, and representing a range of scenery three thousand 
miles in extent, well may we be ashamed to give up anything 
worth pursuing, merely because it costs us a little trouble. 
One might also think that young Banvard had taken for his 
motto the words which I saw in a book lately : — 

" Think well before you pursue it ; 
But when you begin, go through it ?^' 

When his father died, John was left a poor, friendless lad, 
and obtained employment with a druggist ; but so fond was 
he of sketching the likenesses of those about him, on the 
walls, with chalk or coal, that his master told him he made 
better likenesses than pills; so poor John lost his situation. 
He then tried other plans, and met with many disappoint- 
ments ; but at last succeeded in obtaining as much money as 
he thought would enable him to paint his great picture. 

He had to go through much danger and trouble before he 
could take all his sketches, spread over a distance of three 
thousand miles. Having bought a small skiff, he set off 
alone on his perilous adventure. He travelled thousands of 
nules, crossing the Mississippi backwards and forwards to 
secure the best points for making his sketches. All day long 
he went on sketching, and when the sun was about to set he 
either shot wild fowl on the river, or hauling the little boat 
ashore, went into the woods, with his rifle, to shoot game. After 
cooking and eating his supper, he turned his boat over on the 



LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 145 

ground, and crept under it, rolling himself up in a blanket to 
sleep for the night, safe from the falling dews and prowling 
animals. Sometimes for weeks together he never spoke to a 
human being. In this manner he went on sketching for 
more than four hundred days before the necessary drawings 
were finished, and then he set to work in good earnest to 
paint the picture. 

He had only made sketches in his wanderings. After 
these were completed, there were colors and canvas to be 
bought, and a large wooden building to be erected, where he 
might finish his work without interruption. 

I have now told you about the Panorama; when it was 
finished it covered three miles of canvas, and represented a 
range of scenery three thousand miles in extent; and that all 
this magnificent work was executed by a poor, fatherless, 
moneyless lad, ought to make us ashamed of giving up any 
undertaking worth pursuing, merely because it would cost us 
some trouble. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Which would probably feel the happier, John Banyard alone, 
Imsily at work in the "wilderness, or the boy surrounded with friends, 
and every luxury, but with nothing to do ? 

2. What effect had poverty upon John Banvard's great purposes? 
What effect had disappointments ? What effect had great obstacles? 

3. For which does John Banvard deserve the more credit, — for 
overcoming poverty, disappointments, dangers, and other obstacles, 
as he did, or for really painting the largest picture in the world? 

4. Whg did John succeed so well in overcoming diflBculties, when 
so many fail ? 



NARRATIVE. 



"What a Hod-Man can Do. — Many persons look with 
disdain upon what they call ^' dirty work,'' as though all 
honest labor was not cleaner than many kid-gloved ways of 
13 



146 LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 

swindling one's-self through the world. Rather than owe 
our living to the latter, we would infinitely prefer to shake 
carpets or sweep chimneys at fifty cents a day. A day or 
two since we learned an interesting bit of history touching a 
doer of '^ dirty work^' — a hod-man, and we narrate it here, 
that our young friends may see what great results may arise 
from low beginnings. 

He went to New York about ten years ago, young, healthy 
and honest. He could get no employment but hod-carrying, 
and he did this so well as to earn at once his dollar a day. He 
procured good, but cheap, board and lodgings; spent none 
of his earnings in taverns or low places; attended church on 
the Sabbath; educated himself in the evenings, laid up money, 
and at the end of five years bought a lot in the city, and 
built a pretty cottage. In one year more he found a good 
wife, and used the cottage he had before rented out. During 
these six years, he had steadily carried the hod. 

He was a noted worker, an acknowledged scholar, and a 
noble pattern of a man. On the opening of the eighth year, 
his talents and integrity were called to a more profitable 
account. He embarked as a partner in a professional busi- 
ness, already well established. This day he is worth at least 
$100,000; he has a lovely wife, and two beautiful children; 
a home that is the centre of a brilliant social and intellectual 
circle, and he is one of the happiest and most honored of men, 
so far as he is known. So much has come of a hod-man. 



5. Is carrying mortar to build a house a useful employment? Is 
it an honest employment ? Why need any man be ashamed to caiTj 
mortar for such a purpose ? 

6. When was this hodman entitled to the greater respect, — while 
he was laboring during the day for one dollar, and studying during 
the evening to educate himself, or after he had acquired one hundred 
thousand dollars worth of property ? 

7. Suppose that this same hodman had labored hard for ten years, 



LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 147 

at one dollar a day, and had studied just as faithfully in the evening 
to e'ducate himself, but was only able to support his family by his 
earnings ; would he then have been entitled to any respect ? How 
much? 



NARRATIVE. 

A Great American Scholar. — Some seventy years ago, 
there lived in Salem, Massachusetts, a poor boy, who had 
determined to get an education. He was confined in a shop 
through the day, and had but few advantages and little time 
for carrying out his design. He was not discouraged, how- 
ever, but persevered like a hero, and every month witnessed 
his progress towards the object of his ambition. That boy 
was afterwards known throughout the civilized world as Dr. 
Bowditch, one of the most learned and famous scientific men 
our country has ever produced. But all that Bowditch knew, 
he learned ; "and all that he learned, he acquired by diligent 
and persevering application. You can form some idea of his 
indomitable perseverance, from a little incident that is related 
of him. While he was a boy, a valuable private library, which 
had been captured at sea, arrived in Salem. These books 
were a rare prize for those days, and young Bowditch bor- 
rowed a number of them from the person who had charge of 
them. The volumes were retained longer than was necessary 
for a simple perusal, and it was afterwards ascertained that 
the young student was so anxious to possess them, that he 
actually copied twenty ponderous folio and quarto volumes of 
scientific works, and thus made them his own ? These books, 
which at that time he dared not, from economy, think of pur- 
chasing, were of great service to him in after years ; and his 
children have carefully preserved them, as precious memorials 
of the perseverance of their father. 



148 LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 

8. Among pupils in school, there are some that learn much, and 
many that learn little. What makes the difference, where the' ad- 
vantages seem nearly equal ? 

9. Did Dr. Bowditch labor any harder than most students are 
■willing to labor ? Did he know anything that he did not labor to 
acquire ? 

10. While books are so plenty and so cheap, and other advantages 
so great, why do we not have many thousands of men just as well 
educated as Dr. Bowditch ? 

11. Many things seem quite impossible to some persons, and quite 
possible to others. Can you give any reason for this difference ? 



EXTRACT. 

Few things Impossible. — ^'It'is impossible/' said some, 
■wLen Peter the Great determined to set out on a voyage of 
discovery, through the cold, northern regions of Siberia, and 
over immense deserts; but Peter was not to be discouraged, 
and the thing was done. 

" It is impossible,'^ said many, when they heard of a 
scheme of the good Oberlin's. To benefit his people, he had 
determined to open a communication with the high road to 
Strasbourg, so that the productions of de la Roche (his own 
village) might find a market. Kocks were to be blasted and 
conveyed to the banks of the river Bruche, in sufficient 
quantity to build a wall for a road along its banks, a mile 
and a half, and a bridge across it. He reasoned with his 
people, but they still thought it was impossible. But he 
seized a pick-axe, put it across his shoulder, proceeded to the 
spot and went to work ; and the peasants soon followed him 
with their tools. The road and bridge were at length built, 
and to this day, the bridge bears the name of the " Bridge 
of Charity." 

^' It is impossible," said some, as they looked at the im- 
penetrable forests which covered the rugged flags and deep 
gorges of Mount Pilatus, in Switzerland, and hearkened to 



LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 149 

the daring plan of a man named Rupp, to convey the pines 
from the top of the mountain to the lake of Lucerne, a dis- 
tance of nearly nine miles. Without being discouraged by 
their exclamations, he formed a slide or trough, of 24,000 
pine-trees, six feet broad, and from three to six feet deep j 
and this slide, which was completed in 1812, was kept moist. 
Its length was 44,000 English feet. 

It had to be conducted over rocks or along their sides, or 
under ground, or over deep gorges, where it was sustained by 
scaffolds; and yet skill and perseverance overcame every 
obstacle, and the thing was done. The trees glided down 
from the mountain into the lake with wonderful rapidity. 
The larger pines, which were 100 feet long, ran through the 
space of eight miles and a third in about six minutes. 

A gentleman who saw this great work, declares, that " such 
was the speed with which a tree of the largest size passed 
any given point, that he could only strike it once with a stick 
as it rushed by, however quickly he attempted to repeat the 
blows. 

Say not hastily, then, ^^it is impossible." It may be so to 
do a thing in an hour, a day, or a week. But resolve, and 
then act; smdpei^severe in your work. " Time and patience,'^ 
says a Spanish author, " make the mulberry leaf into satin.'' 



12. Who probably enjoyed the greatest pleasure in seeing the 
large pine-trees slide through the trough from the mountains above 
into the lake below ? 

13. When Rupp, the projector, saw that there were difficulties to 
be overcome in completing such an undertaking, why did he not 
abandon the plan, at once ? 

14. When all obstacles were overcome, and the work completed, 
was the projector more, or less able to overcome new difficulties, and 
carry forward to completion other bold and difficult enterprises ? 

13* 



150 LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Does a person feel more, or less liappy who has a great and good 
object before Mm to accomplish, than the person who has no plan 
before him, and no labor to do ? 

2. Which is better, to try to do something very useful and yet 
very difficult, and fail in our object, or not to attempt to do anything 
at all ? 

3. Which affords us the greater pleasure, to do what is very difficult, 
or very easy to be done ? 

4. Which affords us the greater pleasure, to do what is very easy 
to be done, if it is useful, or to do nothing at all ? 

5. Some persons seem to suppose that it is very degradijig to do any- 
thing useful. What is your opinion of this ? 

6. Some persons think that some useful employments are honorable, 
and that other employments, equally useful, are very degrading. 
What do you think of this ? 

7. If a man does his duty well, which is the more honorable 
employment, to plough in the fields, or to weigh out sugar and tea ? 

8. Which is the more honorable employment, to write in an office, 
or to lay brick or stone in the erection of buildings ? 

9. By what means can any one acquire much bodily strength ? 

10. By what means can any one acquire strength of mind ? 

11. After you have mastered one hard lesson, how are you better 
prepared to master another ? 

12. Suppose you find some lessons and some studies very difficult, 
what are you to do ? 

13. What would you have advised Rupp to do, if he had inclined 
to despair, when he stood vipon the brink of some one of the frightful 
gorges of the mountain, studying how his trough might be passed 
over it ? 

14. Every where, and at all times, what are you to do when you 
meet with discouragements ? 



LABOR CONQUERS ALL THINGS. 151 



LABOR. 

LaboRj labor — honest labor — 
Labor keeps me well and strong; 

Labor gives me food and raiment, 
Labor, too, inspires my song ! 

Labor keeps me ever merry; 

Cheerful labor is but play : 
Labor wrestles with my sorrow; 

Labor driveth tears away. 

Labor makes me greet the morning 
In the glorious hour of dawn, 

And I see the hills and valleys 
Put their golden garments on. 

Labor brings an eve of solace, 

When my hands their toil forego. 

And across my heart in silence 
Cherished streams of memory flow. 

Labor curtains night with gladness, 
Giveth rest and happy dreams; 

And the sleep that follows labor 
With a mystic pleasure t^ems. 

Labor ever freely giveth. 
Lustrous vigor to the mind; 

Shedding o'er its sunlight holy. 
New ideas I daily find. 

Labor brings me all I need; 

While I work I need not borrow. 
Hands are toiling for to-day, 

Mind is workino; for to-morrow. 



152 HONESTY AND UPRIGHTNESS. 

Labor's tools make sweetest music, 
As their busy echoes ring; 

Loom, and wheel, and anvil, ever 
Have a merry song to sing. 

" Labor ! Labor ! '' crieth Nature, 
" Labor ! '' sings the wheel of Time, 

And in their own mystic language 
Earth, and sky, and ocean chime. 

Labor, labor! ne'er be idle, 
Labor, labor, while you can; 

'Tis the Iron Age of Labor, 
Labor only makes the man ! 



LESSON XIX 



BE HONEST IN "LITTLE THINGS," UPRIGHT IN ALL 
THINGS. 



NARRATIVE. 

Temptation not Resisted. — The following is the case 
of a boy who yielded to temptation, and suflfered dreadful 
consequences. 

The boy alluded to was the son of pious parents in the 
country; he had received much faithful instruction, and had 
doubtless been the subject of many prayers. His appearance 
was such as to excite affection and confidence, and his prepa- 
ration for business was ample. With these advantages he was 



HONESTY AND UPRIGHTNESS. 153 

placed in the store of a merchant of the best character in 
Boston. His employer found him faithful and industrious; 
placed great confidence in him ; committed much property to 
his care ; and was often congratulated on having so good a 
boy, who bid fair to make "a first-rate man of business/' 

Butj alas ! not many months elapsed before this fair pros- 
pect was overclouded. The merchant heard that his favorite 
boy had been seen at a theatre. Knowing he had no money 
to pay for such an amusement, he doubted the report; but 
being assured of its correctness, he took him aside, and with 
much feeling told him what he had heard, and inquired if 
it was true that he had been seen in such a place ? Find- 
ing he was detected, the boy confessed the whole matter; 
from which it appeared, that at first he was persuaded to 
attend an evening book-auction. There he found a crowd 
of young men — and the auctioneer was vociferous in praise 
of his ^'excellent books with splendid bindings, selling for 
less than the cost of printing." One book was offered which 
the boy had a great desire to read — but he had no money to 
pay for it. More of the same books were to be sold on the 
next evening. The thought passed through his mind — 
^' Can't I borrow money enough to pay for this book, and 
after I have read it, sell it again, and pay what I have bor- 
rowed ?" This thought appeared plausible and harmless — 
but it was the cause of his ruin. He borrowed the money 
from his employer's drawer, without asking for it — and 
having onoo violated his conscience, he could no longer resist 
the temptation to depredate, again and again, in the same 
way, — and having money in his possession, the desire to 
spend it all in sinful gratification, was too strong to be 
resisted, and he was easily led (by his jovial ^'friends" which 
his money procured,) to the theatre, that broad road to ruin, 
that slaughter-house of the morals of our youth. 

His parents were informed of his conduct. It almost 
broke their hearts. He promised them that he would reform 



154 HONESTY AND UPRiaHTNESS. 

— but he felt degraded, his conscience tormented him, and 
it was not long before he absconded. After which, search 
being made, goods to the amount of several hundred dollars 
were found in his chamber, which he had purchased with 
money stolen from his master. 

Thus were the fair prospects of a once amiable youth de- 
stroyed — his character gone — his father's house forsaken — 
and he wandering like a vagabond, exposed to the destructive 
allurements of vice, without a good conscience to restrain him, 
or a friend to advise him. 

This is but one among many instances of young men from 
the country who are ruined in cities by the many temptations 
which beset them there. These temptations are so various in 
their form, that it is difficult to describe them ; but they meet 
an unsuspecting youth almost every hour — and in order to 
resist them, and walk in the path of rectitude, he should 
firmly resolve to keep ^' a conscience void of offence towards 
God and man/' 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. What was tte the first thing that was wrong in the conduct of 
this boy ? 

2. If, after he had '^ borrowed^^ the money from the drawer, and 
had purchased and read the book, he had sold it for as much as it 
cost, and replaced the money, would there then have been any thing 
wrong in his conduct ? What ? 

3. Suppose he had sold the book at a handsome profit, and placed 
all the money in the drawer, but still without the knowledge or 
consent of his employer, would there have been any thing wrong in 
his conduct then ? 

4. This boy could not think of stealing, even a small amount, at 
first. What did he do to prepare his mind and conscience for stealing 
whenever he had an opportunity ? 



HONESTY AND UPRIGHTNESS. 155 



NARRATIVE. 

Honesty in Little Things. — " Matilda/' said little 
Thomas, " Do you know that one of the boughs of Mr. C.'s 
apple-tree hangs over our garden wall, and when the fruit 
gets ripe, and the high winds blow, we shall have some of the 
apples." ^^ Indeed you will not,'' replied his sister, "for 
they are not ours, and you must be honest, even in little 
things." 

" Oh then," said Thomas, his eyes brightening while he 
expressed his thoughts, " we will throw them over the wall 
again, and he will be sure to find them." Admirable inten- 
tion ! all through life may principles of true rectitude direct 
the little boy. My dear readers, let me impress upon your 
minds the absolute need of the most scrupulous honesty on all 
occasions. You cannot tell how the pilfering of an apple, or 
the stealing of a pear, or a book, may stamp your character 
for life. Should your friends ever see any thing like dupli- 
city in your conduct, they could not help being suspicious, 
which would make you feel very uncomfortable ; therefore, 
say indignantly to the tempter, when he would incline you to 
that which is wrong, " How can I do this great wickedness 
and sin against God ?" and let the holy Psalmist's prayer be 
continually your prayer, both morning and evening too ; " let 
integrity and uprightness preserve me :" and ever remember 
the two following lines, which, though old, are valuable : 

*' It is a sin to steal a pin, 
And 'tis much more a greater thing." 



5. Do joti see any thing wrong in taking the apples that might 
fall from yonr neighbor's trees into your own garden ? 

6. After ha-sing taken those that had fallen into the garden, -what 
might be the next act? 



156 HONESTY AND UPRIGHTNESS. 
NARRATIVE. 

Case of Conscience in a Child. — A little girl at- 
tending a private school in one of our large cities, did not 
know her way home. A messenger was expected to take her 
from school, but as she did not arrive, a sister pupil of the 
girl was requested to conduct her to her mother's house. For 
this service, the teacher gave her a cent. The children 
departed, but before going far they met the messenger, who 
relieved the guide of her charge. She immediately returned 
to the teacher, and said, " I did'n't show the little girl the 
way home, and so I have brought back your cent.^' 



7. So long as children or men refuse to take or keep a cent or a 
pin that does not belong to them, -what would you infer respecting 
their honesty in greater things ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Inordinate love of Dress. — I once knew a youth, the 
child of a navy officer who had served his country with dis- 
tinction, but whose premature death rendered his widow 
thankful to receive an official appointment for her delicate 
boy, in a Government office. His income from the office was 
faithfully given to his mother; and it was a pleasure and a 
pride to him to gladden her heart by the thought that he was 
helping her. She had other children, but they were younger 
than he : these were two little girls, just rising one above 
another in the early stages of womanhood. Her scanty 
pension and his salary made every one happy. But over this 
youth came a love of dress. He had not strength of mind 
to see how much more truly beautiful is a pure mind than a 
jQnely-decorated exterior. He took pleasure in helping his 
mother and sisters, but did not sufficiently reflect that to do 



HONESTY AND UPRIGHTNESS. 157 

this kindness to them, he must be contented, for a time, to 
dress a little plainer than his fellow-clerks; his clothes mieht 
appear somewhat worn, but they were like the spot on the dress 
of a soldier, arising from the discharge of duty; they were 
not marks of undue carelessness : necessity had made them ; 
and while they indicated necessity, they marked also the path 
of honor: without such spots duty must have been neglected. 
But this youth did not think of such considerations as these. 
He felt ashamed of his threadbare, but clean coat. The 
smart, new, shining dress of other clerks, mortified him. 
They bad no mother to assist, nor sisters dependent upon 
them ; and probably some among them would have gladly 
come in a shabby cat, rather than diminish the comforts of 
dear relatives at home. Robert truly loved his mother and 
sisters, and did not wish to lessen their income, but he wanted 
to appear finer. In an evil hour he ordered a suit of ch^thea 
from a fashionable tailor. His situation and eontiectiona 
procured him a short credit. But tradesmen must be paid, 
and Bobert was again and again importuned to defray liis 
debt. To relieve himself of his creditor, he stole a letter 
containing a £10 note. His tailor was paid, but the injured 
party knew the number of the note. It was traced to the 
tailor, and by him to Bobert, with the means and opportunity 
of stealing it, and in a few days the youth (fir he was only 
sixteen) was transported. Before he went away, it was very 
affecting to see his truly respectable mother come to visit 
him. " Oh, Bobert ! how could you do this \" was her 
plaintive expostulation. The distress she suffered, and the 
straitened way in which she and his sisters lived for many 
months, to pay the expenses of his defence, were never known 
to him. His mother entertained the liveliest hopes that he 
might escape by some legal defect ; but all her hopes were 
blighted, and she lost her son probably for ever. His birth- 
day passed in Newgate. On this occasion a Bible was sent 
him, and markers wrought in beads by his sisters. One was, 
14 



158 HONESTY AND UPRIGHTNESS. 

" Robertj we still remember you :'^ another, by his youngest 
sister, was, '■'■ Still we love you.'^ It was quite pitiable to see 
how the youth's tears flowed when he read these signs of love 
and sorrow in the home he had rendered so desolate. He 
was profoundly humbled and sincerely penitent; but his 
offence could not be pardoned. Public good demanded his 
punishment; and his was another example of the miserable 
folly of a love of dress. 

8. What was \h.^ first wrong step in -the conduct of Robert? 

9. After he had taken the first wrong step, why did he not stop at 
once, and reform ? 

10. After finding it very inconvenient to pay for the new suit of 
clothes, why did he not resolve never to buy any more clothes upon 
credit ? 

11. After the first falsehood has been told, what must we expect 
to follow ? 

12. After the first wrong act has been done, what must we expect 
will follow ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF EIGHT PRINCIPI-ES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Do persons usually first steal very trifling, or very valuable 
articles ? 

2, If, in passing a man's orchard, you should see plenty of fruit 
that was rotting upon the trees and ground, would it be right to take 
some of it without asking the owner ? 

8. But if you were acquainted with the owner, and felt sure that 
he would give his consent, if you were to ask him, would it be right 
to take some of the fruit without asking for it? 

4. Children, in passing along the road or street, sometimes reach 
over or through the fence and gather fruit. Is this right ? 

5. Sometimes the limbs of fruit-trees hang over the street, and 
boys say " This fruit will fall into the road or street when it is ripe: 
we may as well take it before it falls." Is that right? 



HONESTY AND UPRIGHTNESS. 159 

6. If apples are very plentiful and very cheap, and wagon-loads 
are standing in the street for sale, how many apples may a boy take 
from a wagon without leave, and not steal ? 

7. In passing around among mechanics, boys sometimes gather up 
&few nails. How many small nails might a boy, in this way, put in 
his pocket without stealing ? 

8. Along the streets and wharves, casks of sugar are often broken 
open by accident or otherwise, and boys ^^just taste " of a little of 
the sugar. How many times might a boy "just taste," or how much 
sugar might he eat, without making a case of stealing? 

9. If you wanted some fruit or some sugar to eat, and did not 
think it right to steal yourself, how would it do for you to let some 
other boys steal the fruit, and then you eat it with them ? 

10. If you know that the fruit, or the food, or the presents of 
any kind placed before you have been stolen, what ought you to do ? 

11. Persons sometimes secretly borrow the money or articles intrust- 
ed to their care, thinking they will make all right at some convenient 
time. What is wrong in this ? 

12. If you were to find money in the street, or elsewhere, what 
ought you to do with it ? 

13. If you were to find lost articles of any kind, what ought you 
to do ? Would it be right to keep them, and say nothing ? 

14. Not long since a little girl received a ten dollar gold piece at 
the Post Office in Sandusky, in the evening, by mistake, for a cent. 
After going home, the mistake was seen. Was this money hers? 
How much of it belonged to her ? To whom did the rest belong ? 
She returned the gold piece the next morning, the Post-Master 
not having yet discovered the error. Would you have done so ? 

15. A poor man once purchased a loaf of bread of a baker for the 
usual price of a loaf. When away from the shop, he began to break 
and eat it with his son, when he found gold coin to the value of several 
dollars in the middle of it. Was this money his ? Did he buy it ? 
What would be right to do with the money in such a case ? 

16. At the market, we sometimes find very nice berries, or other 
fruits, placed carefully on the top of the measure, while, in the mid- 
dle, the fi'uit is nearly worthless. How ought this to be ? 

17. Children sometimes break crockery or other furniture, and 
place it carefully away without saying anything to any one. What 
ought you to do if you injure any article of furniture ? 

18. Boys sometimes ride half a mile on the back steps of an 
omnibus without being seen. What is there wrong in this ? 



IGO THE CHOICE OF COMPANY. 

19. Suppose that having borrowed a boy's knife you should los« 
it, and pay him twenty-five cents to make his loss good. Some time 
afterwards, the boy finds his knife himself, in as good order as 
when he lent it to you. — What ought to be done in such a case ? 

20. Suppose the fee for admittance to a show or concert, to be 
ten cents, and that, by standing near the door, you can easily pass 
iri, without being noticed and without paying anything. Would this 
r- right? 

21. If a boy should offer to sell you a pencil-case, he supposing it 
to be brass, for twenty-five cents, and yoa at once knew it was gold 
and worth one dollar and a half or two dollars, would it be right 
to take it for twenty-five cents, without informing the boy of its 
real value ? 

22. If you should buy a pound of candy at the shop, and pay for 
it, and should, when you reached home, find there were two pounds 
instead of one, what ought you to do ? 

23. When you are tempted, in any way, to do wrong, what very 
important precept are you to remember respecting the first wrong acts ? 



LESSON XX. 



A PERSON IS KNOWN BY THE COMPANY HE KEEPS. 
NARRATIVE. 

The Man that was Haunted by his Shadow. — The 
chief of police in New York city, (Mr. Matsell,) has 
adopted a new and singular plan, both as a preventive and a 
remedy for crime. lie has in his employ a number of trust- 
woitliy men, who make themselves acquainted with every 
rogue i 1 the country. Their province is to watch the 
arrival of all s:teaiii-boats, mil-road cars, and oth^r public 
conveyances, and follow every known rogue and suspicious 
character, like his very shadow, wherever he goes. Not a 



THE CHOICE OF COMPANY. 161 

moment, night or day, while in that city, can a person escape 
from these shadows (policemen) when once they are at- 
tached. 

A recent case of actual occurrence will illustrate this 
system. A well-known burglar, who had reformed, but 
whose reformation had not become public, arrived in New 
York from a neighboring city, in company with an intelligent 
lawyer, as his counsel, for the settlement of some old affairs. 
As a man is known by the company he keeps, the lawyer was 
immediately suspected and shadowed! — He went into a 
barber's shop to be shaved, and the shadow (policeman) sat 
down by his side. He went to see a friend, the shadow 
waited outside. Next he went to a restaurant for dinner, the 
shadow was at the table opposite. Now he walked about 
town, the shadow was ever behind him. He went to the 
theatre, the shadow was in the next seat. He stepped into a 
reading-room to learn the news, and the shadow was reading 
at his elbow. He registered his name at the hotel — the 
shadow was looking over his shoulder. He went to bed — 
the shadow inquired the number of his room. In this 
way, says the correspondent of one of our journals, he was 
dogged for three days, when he called upon the chief of 
police in reference to the business of his client, when lo ! and 
behold, the shadow was there too ! Of course, as soon as he 
made himself known as an attorney from a neighboring city, 
the shadow was withdrawn. And most fortunate was he in 
going to the office as he did, for Mr. Matsell had already 
issued orders for his arrest on suspicion. 

Those who believe the Bible, know that a much closer 
inspection than this is had over every human being, every 
moment, and- in every place, and without the least intermis- 
sion. "Why are we so apt to forget it, and to think that we 
are alone ? 

14* 



162 THE CHOICE OF COMPANY. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Why was the lawyer, in the preceding narrative, suspected of 
being a thief? 

2. Was it reasonable that the ofScer should suspect the lawyer of 
being a rogue ? 

3. If a stranger of a respectable appearance should come to the 
town or city in which you reside, in company with a well-known 
thiof, would you suspect the stranger was a rogue ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Bad Counsels. — At an early age I had to rue the bad 
counsel and evil influence of intermeddlers, as you shall hear. 
When a school-boy, my teacher, on one occasion, treated me 
with unmerited severity, and my youthful blood boiled in my 
veins at what appeared to me to be injustice and cruelty; 
but, exasperated as I was, time would, no doubt, have 
soothed, if not healed my wounded spirit, had it not been for 
the intermeddlers around me. These so highly colored the 
conduct of my preceptor, and warmly complimented me for my 
noble, independent spirit, that I was impelled to keep up 
my character with them, by adopting the worst course I could 
take — that of running away from school. The serious disad- 
vantages to which this act of rebellion subjected me, are even 
now fresh in my memory. 



4. What were the consequences of bad associates in the preceding 
narrative ? 

6. Which would be better, to submit to reproof that might seera 
a little too severe, or lose, for life, the advantages of a good educa- 
tiou? 



THE CHOICE OF COMPANY. 163 

NARRATIVE. 

The Downward Egad — A True Narrative. — I 
once knew a young man, the youngest of five brothers. His 
father had fallen from a high standing in society, and had 
become a degraded creature through intemperance. He had 
abused his wife and children, who were then promising and 
amiable, until, worn out with harsh treatment, his wife sought 
an asylum from his cruelties, in the home of a kind-hearted 
brother. Her sons were all provided with respectable homes 
to acquire various mechanic arts, except the youngest, wbo 
remained with his mother to comfort her lonely and desolate 
heart, and to enjoy the opportunity of schooling. He was 
very much beloved in school for his kind and gentle beha- 
viour, as well as his obliging disposition. 

Years passed away. His brothers, one after another, had 
all fallen into the habits of their shameless and unhappy 
father, and the mother's heart was almost crushed by these 
repeated and heavy trials. Still she looked to her youngest 
as the prop upon which her poor heart, throbbing with pain- 
ful emotions, might lean, and find peace and comfort once 
more. 

He went into a store as a clerk. He was faithful, honest, 
and industrious, enjoying the confidence of his employer, and 
the respect and good wishes of all his friends, for many years. 
It was often said of him, to the gratification of those who 
were watching his progress, that " he was thought to be one 
of the best and most faithful clerks in the city where he 
lived.'' 

But he fell into the company of young men who drink 
^^ moderately," as people say, and here he acquired that love 
of strong liquor which proved at last his ruin. It was long 
concealed from all his friends, until it came at last upon them 
like the thunderbolt. He was discharged by his employer, 
and came home, not to be a stay and support to his broken- 



164 THE CHOICE OF COMPANY. 

hearted mother, but to inflict a deeper wound upon her 
already bleeding heart. He, who might have been a man 
of unbounded influence, and of great moral worth, was sunk 
so low as to be shunned by all who valued their reputation, 
and was soon known to labor simply for what he could drink. 
After a few years, one of his old friends was established 
in the mercantile business in Oswego, now a flourishing city 
on Lake Ontario. One pleasant afternoon, in spring, when 
the business of the day was nearly over, there was an unusual 
noise in the street. He stepped to the door to ascertain ^the 
cause, and saw a troop of boys following, teasing and divert- 
ing themselves with a man who was so intoxicated, that he 
soon fell down. The boys were abusing him at such a rate 
that our merchant went out and dispersed them, when, to his 
astonishment, he found that the man was indeed no other than 
he whom he had known in earlier days as the reputable and 
promising clerk. He treated him with great kindness, but 
nothing had any eff"ect to reclaim him. Those who never 
TASTE intoxicating drinks never become drunkards. All 
others may. 



■6. What difference did it make to this young man whom he chose 
for his associates ? 

7. If he had been much disposed to drink himself, and yet had 
been only with temperate companions, what might have been the 
result? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF EIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Does it make any difference to you whom you choose for your 
companions, if you try to do right yourself? What diff"erence? 

2. If one bad boy were to associate with two good ones, would the 
bad boy be likely to become good, or the good boys bad ? 



THE CHOICE OP COMPANY. 165 

8. Do persons usually choose for their companions those that are 
very much like,ov unlike themselves. 

4. Suppose you saw five boys who were intimate companions, and 
whose appearance was equally respectable : — if you knew positively, 
that two of them would swear, or lie, or steal, what would you infer 
respecting the other three ? 

5. If you find that any of jour companions Sire Just heginning to 
use profane or obscene language, what would you think it your duty, 
at once, to do ? 

6. But if they grow worse instead of heiter, after you have spoken 
to them of their evil conduct, what ought you to do ? 

7. If you were with ten boys who were strongly tempted to steal 
fruit, and who had not the moral courage to refuse, and say that it 
was wrong, would it be easy for you to stand alone and oppose all the 
rest? 

8. Would it not be easier for you to exercise courage to do right, 
if eight of the boys were anxious to do right also ? 

9. If all your associates should unite in encouraging you in 
everything that is right and honorable, what efi*ect would this have 
upon you? 

10. May we select our intimate companions, or must we always 
have just such as happen to be with us ? 

11. What advantage may we expect to gain by associating with 
those who are better scholars than ourselves ? 

12. What advantage may we expect to gain by associating with 
those who have more moral courage than ourselves ? — with those who 
are more attentive to neatness than we are? — with those who are 
more industrious dindi persevering ? 

13. If you were very anxious to learn music, how would you be 
benefited by having for your intimate associates those who were 
highly accomplished in music ? 

14. If yoti could never spend an hour with those who were more 
accomplished in their manners than yourself, would it be just as 
easy for you to be always polite and refined ? 

15. Some persons adopt, for their maxim, the following — <' Choose 
GOOD COMPANIONS, or choosc none at all." Is this a safe and prudent 
maxim for all ? 

16. Have you ever known persons who seemed very amiable and 
virtuous, to be ruined by bad associates ? 

17. How long will the effects of early, bad associates be likely to 
last? 



LESSON XXI. 



LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. 
NARRATIVE. 

Disinterested Benevolence. — In the hard frost of the 
year 1740, the benevolent Duke of Montague went out one 
morning in disguise, according to his favorite practice, to dis- 
tribute his bounty to his suffering fellow-creatures. He 
descended into one of those subterraneous dwellings, which 
are so numerous in London, and accosting an old woman, 
asked her how she lived in those hard times, and, whether 
she wanted any assistance. '' No,'' she replied, ^^she thanked 
God she was not in want, but if he had anything to bestow, 
there was a poor creature in the next room almost starving." 
The duke visited this poor object, made her a donation, and 
then inquired of the old woman if any more of her neighbors 
were in want. She said that her left-hand neighbor was very 
poor and very honest. '^ Surely,'' replied the duke, "you are 
very generous and disinterested : pray, if it is no offence, let 
me know your own circumstances." "I owe nothing," said 
the good woman, "and am worth thirty shillings." " Well, 
I suppose a little addition would be acceptable." "Yes, 
certainly, but I think it wrong to take what others want so 
much more than I do." The duke upon this took out five 
guineas, and desiring her acceptance of them, left the poor 
woman quite overcome by this mark of his generosity, and 
expressing in the warmest language her gratitude for his 

kindness. 

(IGG) 



LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. 167 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. In this narrative, what do you discover to approve in the con- 
duct of the poor vyoman, who directed the duke to her neighbors ? 

2. This poor woman thought it wrong to accept aid, when others 
around her were more needy than herself ; do you agree with her, 
that it would have been wrong under the circumstances ? 

3. If she had been so miTch occupied with her own concerns, that 
she had known nothing of the distress of her neighbors, would it have 
been right to accept aid from the duke ? 

4. But under what circumstances is it right for us to be so much 
occupied with our own interests and trials, that we know nothing of 
the suifering around us ? 

5. If it was wrong in this poor woman to receive a little aid from 
the duke, when she well knew that others around her were much 
more needy than herself, what would you say of the conduct of 
those who have an abundance of enjoyments, and yet think only 
of secuiing more for themselves, and none for others that are very 
much in need ? 

6. Who are usually the more ready to deny themselves, those that 
possess many, or those that possess very few enjoyments? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Golden Hule. — "Whatsoever ye would that men 
should do unto you, do ye even so to them." — A most touch- 
ing illustration of this Scripture precept was related to us, a 
few days since. A poor widow, with a family of children to 
support, earned a scanty living by selling, near one of our 
market-houses, on a table, various little fancy articles. Some 
friends advised her to rent a small store that was vacant, close 
by, and open with a larger assortment. After hesitating long 
with much fear and trembling, she at last rented the store, 
and by the aid of a few kind friends, got a neat little stock 
of goods. Every market-day she set out her table as before, 
and with what she sold in this way and in her store, she soon 
began to do very well, and to be tolerably easy in mind. 



168 LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. 

Just at tbis period in her affairs, another poor woman, strug- 
gling for support for her children, set out a table on the 
opposite corner, to get the custom of the market-people. As 
soon as the widow saw this, she immediately took in her 
table, and said to a friend who asked her the reason, '' I am 
doing very well with my store, and she has but a table ; I 
will not divide the custom, for I know how hard it is to 
support a family of children with only the sales of a table." 



7. AYhat do you see to approve, in, the conduct of the widow who 
had the store and the market-table ? 

8. Was it the duty of the woman who owned the little store, to 
withdraw her fruit table from the street, while she was poor herself? 

9. Is it the duty of the poor to help each other ? How should 
they do it? 

10. Suppose the poor woman who had the store, had still kept her 
table in the street, and had, occasionally, given her poorer. neighbor 
a portion of her profits ; would this have been as noble as the course 
she did pursue ? 

11. Which was the more benefited by this act of self-denial; the 
one who received the favor, or the one who bestowed it ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Ill-Nature Recompensed. — I once heard of an active 
young man travelling by night, outside of a coach, with an 
old man who was a cripple. The young man had with him 
a new silk umbrella, and the poor cripple had an old gingham 
one. Suddenly the old man cried out that his umbrella had 
fallen from the coach. In much distress he called to the 
coachman to stop, and requested the younger passenger, as a 
favor, to step down to recover for him his lost property; but 
the young man refused, saying it was rather too much trouble. 
Not content with this, he unfeelingly told the coachman to 
drive on, for that he was not going to stop there all night for 
old fools who could not take care of what belonged to them. 



LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. 169 

The coachman, who expected to get more from the young 
man than from the old cripple, broke into a loud laugh, while 
he touched his horses smartly with the whip. Round went 
the wheels with increased speed, to the delight of the one 
passenger, and the dismay of the other. But when they 
arrived at the end of the stage, it was discovered that the old 
gingham umbrella was safe on the top of the coach, while the 
new silk one was missing. Thus ill-nature was suitably 
recompensed, and the idle excuse, " It is too much trouble/' 
met with a sharp reproof. 



12. Wliat great deeds of kindness and self-denial would you expect 
a young man -would perform, who could refuse to do a small favor 
for an old man ? 

13. If your were riding on the outside of the coach, and suffering 
from cold and ill-health, while this young man had a comfortable 
inside seat, and if some one should ask him to exchange seats with 
you, what would you expect him to do ? 

14. Did this young man lose any thing besides his silk umbrella ? 

15. "Which would you prefer to lose, a valuable silk umbrella, or 
the pleasure of assisting a decrepit old man ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Kindness and Self-Denial Rewarded. — At the dedi- 
cation of a beautiful school-house in Cambridgeport, Massa- 
chusetts, some interesting remarks were made to the children. 
The hope was expressed that good-will, strong friendship and 
real affection might ever reign in the school. The rich 
reward that sometimes follows such kindness was illustrated 
by an anecdote, in substance as follows : 

In a certain school there were two boys who occupied 
adjoining seats. One was large, hardy, and stout, looking 
as though he could bear anything. The other was a small- 
15 



170 LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. 

framed, sensitive, tender lad, — in countenance and appearance 
as delicate as a girl. 

One day some noise was accidentally made at their desks 
by the smaller boy, which led the master to turn round with 
much anger and approach them with a heavy stick. The 
larger boy immediately whispered to his trembling neighbor, 
"Change places with me; I am strong, and the punishment 
won't hurt me as much as it will you/' They changed 
places, and the stout boy received the blows that otherwise 
would have fallen upon the delicate and trembling frame of 
his friend. 

What a beautiful expression is here, of self-forgetfulness, 
and of real friendship ! And see how this act of kindness 
was, in after-life, rewarded. 

During political troubles in England, where this incident 
occurred, these two boys, having become men, took opposite 
sides. The smaller, delicate boy, was now a judge on the 
bench. His old school-mate was at the bar on trial for his 
life for some political offence. He was convicted, and the 
judge was obliged to pass sentence of death upon one who 
had once generously received the blows of an offended teacher, 
which were designed for him. That act of true kindness he 
now remembered. In his position as judge, he could not 
avoid passing the dreadful sentence of death upon his old 
friend and benefactor ; but he immediately hastened to the 
feet of the Protector, and with such impassioned earnestness 
entreated for him, that he obtained his pardon — the sentence 
was stayed, and the life of his friend was preserved. 

Young friends, remember that good-will, true and ardent 
friendship, and real affection, will always be remembered. 



16. Whose conduct do you think deserving the greater credit, that 
of the boy who volunteered to receive the punishment, or that of the 
man who interceded for the life of his old friend? 



LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF, 171 



NARRATIVE. 

Noble Conduct of a British Officer. — Captain, 
afterwards Sir David Baird, having been taken prisoner by 
the famous Hyder Ally, an East-Indian chief, was, v^ith other 
British officers, thrown into prison. The wounds which he 
had received were not only unhealed, but in a state which 
threatened mortification, and his general health was rapidly 
declining. When he and his companions had languished 
some time in confinement, one of Ally's officers appeared, 
bearing with him fetters weighing nine pounds each, which 
were intended for the unhappy prisoners. To resist was 
useless ; they therefore submitted. On the officer coming to 
the Captain, one of his companions sprang forward, and 
urged the cruelty of fettering limbs still festering with 
wounds, from one of which a ball had recently been extracted, 
and stated that death was likely to follow such treatment. The 
stern reply was, " that as many fetters had been sent as there 
were prisoners, and that they must all be put on.'^ " Then,'' 
said the noble advocate of his wounded friend, " put a double 
pair on me, so that Captain Baird may be relieved from wear- 
ing them." This moved the sensibility of even this half-bar- 
barian agent of despotism — an appeal was made to a higher 
authority — a delay arose, the irons were dispensed with, and 
the captive in the dungeon of Seringapatam was spared, to 
become its conqueror, and, for a time, its master. 



17. If the English officer was willing to suffer pain by wearing a 
double set of irons, to save greater pain and suffering to the Cap- 
tain, what would you expect of him in all his daily intercourse with 
his finends and with strangers ? 

18. What must have been the feelings of the generous officer who 
took upon himself the heavy load of double fetters, to spare his 
wounded friend from their intolerable burden ? 



172 LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. 
EXTRACT. 

Politeness in Children. — How few children think it 
worth while to be polite to their playmates and intimate 
friends ! By politeness, I do not mean a great deal of un- 
necessary bowing and courtesying, but that delicate attention 
to the comfort of those around us that springs from a kind, 
generous heart. This habit is acquired, not by attending 
^' schools for manners," but by learning, very early, to yield 
our own little preferences and privileges to those around us, 
denying ourselves a thousand little gratifications for the pur- 
pose of making others happy. 

How many children enter a room without a respectful 
notice of those who are older than themselves. I have seen 
them come in on a cold winter day, and draw their chairs 
before the fire in such a way that those who were sitting 
back could hardly feel the warmth of it, and this without any 
apology for such a breach of politeness. 

Sometimes they interrupt those in the room, who are 
engaged in conversation, by asking some foolish question, 
instead of waiting, as they should do, until an opportunity is 
given them to speak. Then they are impolite to their play- 
mates, and to their sisters and brothers. Instead of cheer- 
fully assisting when their help is needed, they leave them to 
help themselves. 

All this is not only an evidence of thoughtlessness and 
rudeness, but of selfishness, also. Such children are unwill- 
ing to deny themselves, in any way, in order to promote the 
comfort of those around them. Others may wait for an 
opportunity to speak, — others may suffer for an hour in a 
cold room, but they must not suffer any inconvenience 
whatever. Is not this selfishness — hateful selfishness? 

Again, some boys think it beneath them to be polite to a 
sister ! I feel sad when I see such a boy. But there are 
many who think differently. I recollect that I used to meet 



LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. ITS 

a fine, mamly lad, last winter, drawing his little sister to school 
on a sled. Her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes bore testimony 
that his politeness was not thrown away upon her. She 
would pat his cheek with her hand, and call him her kind 
brother. 

He would frequently meet boys of his acquaintance, who 
would urge him to leave his sister, and go with them to play. 
He would answer them, " Yes, when I have taken little 
Emma to school. ^^ I never saw him impatient when he was 
walking with his little sister because she could not keep up 
with him ; and he never would run away and leave her. Do 
you not think that boy was a good brother and a good son ? 

He was always kind and polite to his sister, and to all. Do 
you think he will forget to be polite as he grows older ? No, 
for it will become a habit with him ; and these little atten- 
tions, which cost him nothing, and are so gratifying to those 
who receive them, will gain him many a friend. 

Think of this, my young friends, when you are tempted to 
be rude and selfish, or unkind to those about you ; think how 
many friends your little kind acts may gain you, and how 
happy it will make those who receive your kindness; and 
remember that you lose nothing by being polite. 

Often, while you are denying yourself some little privi- 
leges in your efi"orts to make others happy, remember that 
you are laying up a rich fund of pure enjoyment for yourself 
— far richer and purer than all that you have sacrificed. 

Finally, be polite and self-denying at home. Be polite 
and self-denying towards your parents, and your brothers and 
sisters. This is the true place to cultivate good manners. It 
is worth more than all the ^' schools for manners " that have 
ever been established. When you retire to sleep, bid your 
parents, your brothers and sisters, and all, a kind "good 
night.'' And when you meet them again the next day, 
greet them with a pleasant " good morning." 

If any one does a favor for you, thank him for it. When 
15* 



174 LEAKN TO DENY YOURSELF. 

you are helped at the table thank those who help you. When 
you wish any thing handed to you, do not say, '' Give me 
some bread,'' or ^' Hand me the salt," but ask pleasantly and 
respectfully, ''Will you please to give me some bread?" or, 
^' Please to hand me the salt ?" It is these little things that 
make persons polite. It is the little acts of self-denial that 
make a happy home, and, at the same time, render each one 
happy who practises them. 



19. How is trvie politeness ever to be learned? 

20. Where must we begin to practise self-denial ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Suppose that a boy, poor and very hungry, should have some 
fruit given to him, and he should refuse to eat it himself because he 
wanted to give it to some one that he loved, what virtue would he 
practise ? 

* 2. If a girl, very anxious to attend a lecture or concert, should 
voluntarily stay at home for the sake of allowing her sister or mother 
to go, what virtue would she practise ? 

3. Do you think it easy for any one to be unselfish? 

4. In what manner are we to learn to practise this virtue ? 

5. Why is it necessary that every one should often practise self- 
denial ? 

6. If you deny yourself privileges and comforts for the single pur- 
pose of helping others, who will be the better therefor ? Who will 
be the happier ? 

7. Are there opportunities for all persons to deny themselves some 
enjoyments for the sake of making others happy, if they please to 
do so? 

8. If persons are not willing to give up these "little things," what 
would you expect of them in greater things ? 

9. At meals, it is sometimes inconvenient for all the members of 
the family to have a seat at the first table. What is to be done 
when this happens ? 

10. It is sometimes inconvenient for all the family to attend a lecture 
or concert on the same evening. What is to be done in such a case? 



LEARN TO DENY YOURSELF. 175 

11. All the members of a family cannot, usually, visit friends and 
relatives abroad, at the same time. "What is to be done, when two 
out of five children may accompany their parents, and it is left tro 
the children themselves to decide ? 

12. All the persons in a carriage cannot at all times have an equally 
good seat. Who may choose the best ? 

13. All the pupils of a school, cannot, usually, have an equally 
pleasant seat. What is to be done in such cases ? 

14. It is occasionally necessary for some one to wait on a sick 
mother, or brother, or sister. Whose duty is it to do this ? 

15. All the children of a family cannot always attend school regu- 
larly, when each may feel very anxious to do so. If this is left for 
the children themselves to arrange, how shall it be decided ? 

16. Which would give you the greater pleasure, to attend a pleas- 
ant school for a term, or stay at home for the sake of allowing a 
brother or sister to attend ? 

17. Some persons are willing to suffer pain and sorrow, if they 
may, thereby, prevent others from suffering the same. Have you 
ever known any such persons ? 

18. If you were travelling with two companions over the plains to 
California, where you could not get food, and you had only five bis- 
cuits to live on for eight days, while your companions had nothing to 
eat, what do you think you would do ? 

19. If, in such a journey, you had a little medicine vdth you, and 
your companions had none, and one of them should be taken sick, 
and need as much medicine as you had to cure him, and knowing 
that you could not get any more if you were taken sick yourself, 
what do you think you would do ? 

20. If we know that persons around us are suffering from poverty 
or sickness, what is our duty ? *** 

21. If we know that others around us are suffering, or will suffer, 
from ignorance and neglect, what is our duty ? 

22. When you see a person always ready to deny himself, for the 
purpose of making others happy, what other virtues would you feel 
certain that such a person posse^es ? 

23. Is it more, or less difficult to practise self-denial after we have 
practised it man^ times ? 

24. Which do you think would make the best children, and the 
noblest men and women — those who have very often practised self- 
denial, or those who have never practised it at all ? 



LESSOH XXII 



LIVE USEFULLY. 




NARRATIVE. 

The poor Tyrolese Boy. — A soldier's widow lived in a 
little hut near a mountain village. Her only child was a 
poor cripple. Hans was a kind-hearted boy. He loved his 
mother, and would gladly have helped her to bear the burdens 
of poverty; but his feebleness forbade it. He could not even 
join in the rude sports of the young mountaineers. At the 

(170) 



LIVE USEFULLY. 177 

age of fifteen years, he felt keenly the fact that he was useless 
to his mother and to the world. 

It .was at this period that Napoleon Bonaparte was making 
his power felt throughout Europe. He had decreed that the 
Tyrol should belong to Bavaria, and not to Austria, and sent 
a French and Bavarian army to accomplish his purpose. The 
Austrians retreated. The Tyrolese resisted valiantly. Men, 
women and children of the mountain land were filled with 
zeal in defence of their homes. On one occasion, 10,000 
French and Bavarian troops were destroyed in a single 
mountain pass, by an immense avalanche of rocks and trees 
prepared and hurled upon them by an unseen foe. 

A secret arrangement existed among the Tyrolese, by which 
the approach of the enemy was to be communicated by sig- 
nal fires, from village to village, from one mountain height 
to another, and combustible materials were laid ready to give 
an instant alarm. 

The village in which Hans and his mother lived was in the 
direct line of the route the French army would take, and the 
people were full of anxiety and fear. All were preparing for 
the expected struggle. The widow and her crippled son 
alone seemed to have no part but to sit still and wait. " Ah, 
Hans," she said, one evening, "it is well for us now that 
you can be of little use ; they would else make a soldier of 
you." This struck a tender chord. — The tears rolled from 
his cheek. "Mother, I am useless,'^ cried Hans in bitter 
grief. "Look round our village — all are busy, all ready to 
strive for home and father-land — I am useless.'^ 

" My boy, my kind, dear son, you are not useless to me." 

" Yes, to you ; I cannot work for you, cannot support you 
in old age. Why was I made, mother ?" 

" Hush, Hans," said his mother ; " these repining thoughts 
are wrong. You will live to find the truth of our old proverb : 
" God has his plan 
For every man." 



178 LIVE USEFULLY. 

Little did Hans think that ere a few weeks had passed, 
this truth was to be verified in a remarkable manner. 

Easter holidays, the festive season of Switzerland, came. 
The people lost their fears of invasion in the sports of the 
season. All were busy in the merry-makiog — all but Hans. 
He stood alone on the porch of his mountain hut, overlook- 
ing the village. 

Towards the close of Easter-day, after his usual evening 
prayer, in which he breathed the wish that the Father of 
mercies would, in his good time, afford him some opportunity 
of being useful to others, he fell into a deep sleep. 

He awoke in the night, as if from a dream, under the 
strong impression that the French and Bavarian army was 
approaching. He could not shake off this impression ; but 
with the hope of being rid of it, he rose, hastily dressed him- 
self, andstrolled up the mountain path. The cool air did 
him good, and he continued his walk till he climbed to the 
bignal-pile. Hans walked round the pile; but where were 
the watchers ? They were nowhere to be seen, and perhaps 
they were busied with the festivities of the village. Near 
the pile was an old pine-tree, and in its hollow stem the 
tinder was laid ready. Hans paused by the ancient tree, and 
as he listened, a singular sound caught his attention, now 
quickened by the peculiar circumstances in which he found 
himself, and by the perception that much might depend on him. 
He heard a slow and stealthy tread, then the click of muskets ; 
and two soldiers crept along the cliff. Seeing no one, for 
Hans was hidden by the old tree, they gave the signal to 
some comrades in the distance. 

Hans saw instantly the plot and the danger. The secret 
of the signal-pile had been revealed to the enemy ; a party 
had been sent forward to destroy it; the army was marching 
to attack the village. With no thought of his own peril, and 
perhaps recalling the proverb his mother had quoted, he 



LIVE USEFULLY. 179 

seized the tinder, struck the light, and flung the blazing 
turpentine brand into the pile. 

The two soldiers, whose backs were then turned to the 
pile, waiting the arrival of their comrades, were seized with 
fear; but they soon saw there were no foes in ambush — oulj 
a single youth running down the mountain path. They fired, 
and lodged a bullet in the boy's shoulder. Yet the signal- 
fire was blazing high, and the whole country would be roused. 
It was already aroused from mountain-top to mountain-top. 
The plan of the advancing army was defeated, and a hasty 
retreat followed. 

Hans, faint and bleeding, made his way to the village. 
The people, with their arms, were mustering thick and fast. 
All was consternation. The inquiry was everywhere heard, 
"Who lighted the pile ?" "It was I,'' said at last a faint, 
almost expiring voice. Poor crippled Hans tottered among 
them, saying, "The enemy — the French were there. '^ He 
faltered, and sank upon the ground. " Take me to my 
mother," said he ; " at last I have not been useless." 

They stooped to lift him. "What is this?^' they cried; 
" he has been shot. It is tiiie ; Hans, the cripple, has saved 
us." They carried Hans to his mother, and laid him before 
her. As she bowed in anguish over his pale face,. Hans 
opened his eyes and said, " It is not now, dear mother, you 
should weep for me ; I am happy now. Yes, mother, it is true, 

"God has his plan 
For every man." 

You see he had it for me, though we did not know exactly 
what it was." 

Hans did not recover from his wound, but he lived long 
enough to know that he had been of use to his village and 
his country ; he lived to see grateful mothers embrace his 
mother, to hear that she would be revered and honored in 
the community which her son had preserved at the cost of 
his own life. 



180 LIVE USEFULLY. 

Great emergencies like those which met Hans, cannot 
exist in the history of all. To all, however, the Tyrolese 
motto may speak, and all will experience its truth. None 
need stand useless members of God's great family. There is 
work for every one to do, if he will but look out for it. So 
long as there is ignorance to instruct, want to relieve, sorrow 
to soothe, let there be no drones in the hive, no idlers in the 
great vineyard of the world. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Children are usually very glad to receive favors from their 
parents. Which, probably, gave little Hans the greater pleasure, to 
render useful service to his mother, or to receive favors from her ? 

2. Which deserves the most credit, Hans, who, though poor and 
helpless, was so anxious to aid his mother, or those who really do 
help aged parents very much, yet reluctantly ? 

3. But Hans wished to be useful, not only to his mother, but to 
others and to his country. Was Hans more, or less anxious than 
most persons to live usefully ? 

4. If Hans could have taken his choice, to live entirely for his 
mother and his country, or to gain wealth and distinction, which do 
you think he would have chosen ? 

5. If Hans had known beforehand, that, with the opportunity to 
save his country, he would at the same time lose his own life, do you 
think he would have "strolled up the mountain path" at midnight 
as he did ? 

6. Hans seemed willing to make any sacrifice if he might only be 
useful. Was his desire to be useful too strong ? 

7. Which, really, rendered greater service to his country, little 
feeble Hans, who died so young, or one of the common, healthy 
citizens, who lived to mature age ? 

8. How much more could an able-bodied soldier do for his coun- 
try, than Hans did? How much more could the highest military* 
officer do ? 

9. If he willingly sacrificed his life to save his country from ruin, 
who among persons of renown, is entitled to more honor than Hans, 
the little cri])i)lo boy of the mountains of Tyrol? 



LIVE USEFULLY. 181 

NARRATIVE. 

Noble Conduct. — The State House in Milledgeville, 
Georgia, took fire in lcSo2, but was saved by the great and 
hazardous exertions of a colored man — a slave. As soon as 
the fire was over, his liberty was ofi'ered him, but he refused 
to accept it. Doubtless he loved liberty, but loved the 
pleasure of " doing good " without pay, still better. There 
are enough ready to do good, when they think they shall 
make something by it. 



10. 'When persons do good to othei's, from the best motives, how 
do they usually feel about " taking pay- ■ for then- labors ? 

11. If you were to save a little child from di"owning, at the risk 
of your own life, what would you do, if you were offered "pay" for 
voiu' services ? 



NARRATIVE. 

A Useful Max. — John Pounds, the founder of Ragged 
Schools, was the son of a workman employed in the Royal 
Dock-yards at Portsmouth, Eng., and was born in that town 
in 1766. At the age of fifteen, he met with an accident 
which crippled him for life. A cobbler by trade, he spent the 
greater part of his benevolent career in a small workshop, 
measuring some six feet by eighteen, in St. Mary Street, 
Portsmouth, where he might be seen day after day, seated on 
bis stool, mending shoes, and attending at the same time to 
the studies of a busy crowd of ragged children, clustering 
around him. In addition to mental instruction, he gave them 
industrial trainins; and taught them to cook their own victuals 
and mend their own shoes. He was unusually fond of all 
kinds of birds and domestic animals, and amused himself with 
rearing singing-birds, jays and parrots, which he trained to 
live harmoniously with his cats and guinea-pigs. Sometimes 
16 



182 LIVE USEFULLY. 

he might be seen, seated in the midst of his school, with a 
canarj-bird perched on one shoulder, and a cat on the other. 
But he was too poor to be able long to indulge in all his be- 
nevolent fancies. When his scholars became numerous^ he 
gave up his cats and canary-birds, and devoted the latter part 
of his life exclusively to the more intellectual employment of 
taming and subduing the " wild Arabs of the city." How 
applicable to him the immortal lines of Coleridge : 

<*He prayeth well, who loveth well 
All things both great and small — 

He prayeth best, who loveth best 
Both man, and bird, and beast ; 

For the dear God, who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all." 

The candidates for admission to John Pounds' school were 
always very numerous. But he invariably gave preference 
to the worst as well as the poorest children — to the " little 
blackguards," as he called them. He used to follow them to 
the quay, and oflPer them the bribe of a roasted potato, if they 
would come to his school. Well was he repaid for his un- 
wearied labors by the love and affection which these children 
bore to him. It is said that John Pounds' Ragged School 
had the following origin : In early life he adopted a young 
nephew of his own, whom, poor as he was, he afterwards es- 
tablished comfortably in the world. He thought he could 
educate him better with a companion, than alone, and accord- 
ingly enlisted in his service the son of a poor woman. Then 
another and another child was added, until at last he collected 
around him a large school of boys and girls : during the 
latter years of his life, he had no less than forty scholars. 
He died on the 1st of January, 1839, aged 72. There was 
much sorrow and weeping in Portsmouth. The children had 
lost at once their father, and best friend, and most amusing 



LIVE USEFULLY. 183 

playfellow — Portsmouth had lost one of her noblest orna- 
ments — England one of her most illustrious patriots. We 
rejoice to think that many who never before heard of John 
Pounds, will, through Mr. Guthrie's " Second Plea," become 
acquainted with him. How beautiful is the following tribute 
to his memory : 

" Were we/' says Mr. Guthrie, " to make a pilgrimage 
anywhere, as soon as to the lowly heath where the martyr 
reposes, we would direct our steps to the busy streets of 
Portsmouth, and turning aside from the proud array of 
England's floating bulwarks, we would seek out the humble 
shop where John Pounds achieved his work of mercy, and 
earned an imperishable fame. There is no poetry in hia 
name, and none in his profession ; but there was more than 
poetry — the highest, noblest piety — in his life. — Every 
day within his shop he might be seen cobbling shoes, and 
surrounded by some score or two of ragged urchins, whom he 
was converting into useful members of the State. Honor to 
the memory of the patriot cobbler, beneath whose leather 
apron there beat the kindest heart — there glowed a bosom 
fired with the noblest ambition ; and who without fee from 
scholar or reward from man, while he toiled for his hard 
earned bread with the sweat of his brow, educated not less 
than five hundred out-casts, before they laid him in the lowly 
grave. Honor, we say again, to the memory of this illustri- 
ous patriot ! Nor is there iu all the world any sight we would 
have travelled so far or so soon to see, as that self-same man, 
when he followed some ragged boy along the quays of Ports- 
mouth, keeping his kind, keen eye upon him, and tempting 
the young savage to his school with the bribe of a smoking 
potato. Princes and peers, judges and divines, might have 
stood uncovered in his presence ; and many marble monuments 
might be removed from, the venerable walls of Westminster — ■ 
poets, warriors and statesmen might give place — to make room 
for him. 



184 LIVE USEFULLY. 

John Pounds has a nobler and mure lasting monument than 
any structure of marble or brass — he has 

''For epitaph, a life well spent, 
And mankind for a monument." 



12, Did John Pounds have 7nore, or less advantages for doing good 
than most persons have ? Did he have greater advantages for learn- 
ing ? Did he have more money ? — more influence ? Why was he 
more successful than most persons are in living usefully ? 



EXTRACT. 

" More precious than Rubies." — Would it not please 
you to pick up strings of pearls, drops of gold, diamonds, and 
precious stones, as you pass along the street ? It would 
make you feel happy for a month to come. Such a happiness 
you can give to others. Do you ask how ? By dropping 
sweet words, kind remarks, and pleasant smiles, as you pass 
along. These are true pearls and precious stones, which can 
never be lost; of which none can deprive you. Speak to 
that orphan child ; see the diamonds drop from her cheeks. 
Take the hand of the friendless boy ; bright pearls flash in 
his eyes. Smile on the sad and dejected ; a joy suffuses his 
cheek more brilliant than the most precious stones. By the 
way-side, amid the city's din, and at the fire-side of the poor, 
drop words and smiles to cheer and bless. You will feel 
happier when resting upon your pillow at the close of the 
day, than if you had picked a score of perishing jewels. 
The latter fade and crumble in time ; the former grow 
brighter with age, and produce happier reflections for ever. 



LIVE USEFULLY. 185 

VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Some persons labor very hard to become rich. Are aU success- 
ful in this endeavor ? 

2. Some persons devote almost a whole life-time of labor to the 
study of inventions and improvements in machinery. Are such 
persons always successful? 

3. Some men try very hard to become distinguished scholars, or 
statesmen, or generals. Do they always succeed ? 

4. But if any one feels very anxious to be useful in some way, and 
labors very diligently for this object, what woTild be a reasonable 
expectation as to the result ? 

5. Those who are feeble and nearly helpless themselves, are some- 
times very useful to those around them. In what ways would you 
think it possible for such persons to bestow more favors than they 
receive ? 

6. Li what ways can children be useful to each other ? to their 
parents ? to other persons ? 

7. In what ways can persons who have a good character^ and but 
little property, be useful to others ? How can the rich be useful ? 

8. In what manner can selfish persons learn to love to be useful ? 

9. If you were to save the property of your friends from being 
destroyed by fire or by accident, which would give you the greater 
pleasure, the consciousness of being useful, or all the other advan- 
tages that might thereby arise to you ? 

10. If you should find, and restore to the owner, a thousand 
dollars that he had lost, — which would give you the greater pleasure, 
the consciousness of doing a useful act, or the reward that might be 
offered you ? 

11. If you should discover some cheap and certain remedy for the 
cholera or consumption, which would give you more pleasure, the 
consciousness of being useful, or the other benefits that might thereby 
fairly arise to you ? 

12. If we often thought how happy others might be made by our 
labors, what effect would it be likely to have upon our efforts to be 
useful ? 

13. In choosing an employment, some persons 2i.sk first, how many 
advantages they can thereby secure to themselves, and secondly, how 

16* 



186 BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 

useful they can, at the same time, be to others ; others ask first, how 
useful they can be to those around them, and last, how much they 
can, at the same time, do for themselves. AVhich course do you 
prefer ? 

14, Which would you think the more unfortunate person, the one 
who had lived forty years, and secured an abundance of luxuries and 
enjoyments for himself, without thinking of the welfare of others, or 
the one who had lived a whole life of labor and privation, that he 
might make others happy around him ? 

15 Most persons think it very desirable to occupy some high sta- 
tion in life : What higher station is there than that which we may all 
gain by living for each other's good? 



LESSON XXIII. 



BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 



narrative. 

An Incident in School Life — Never Twit a Boy 
ABOUT WHAT HE CANNOT AvoiD. — Years ago, when I was 
a boy, it was customary, and probably is now to some extent, 
among district schools in the country, to have spelling-school 
during the winter term. These gatherings were always an- 
ticipated with great interest by the scholars, as at these times 
it was to be decided who was the best speller. Occasionally 
one school would visit another for a test of scholarship in this 
regard. Ah ! how the little hearts would throb, and big ones 
thump, in their anxiety to beat the whole. 

Once on a time, a neighboring school sent word to ours, 
that on a certain day in the afternoon, they would meet in 



BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 187 

our school-house for one of these contests. As the time was 
short, most of the other studies were suspended, and at school 
and at home in the evenings, all hands were studying to 
master the monosyllables, dissyllables, abbreviations, &c., 
&c., which the spelling-books contained. 

At length the day arrived, and as our visitors were con- 
sidered rather our superiors, our fears and anxiety were great. 
The scholars were arranged in a standing position, on oppo- 
site sides of the room, and the words given out to each side 
alternately ; the scholar that ^^ missed ^' was to sit down : — 
His game was up. 

It did not take long to thin the ranks of both sides. — In 
a short time our school had but eight on the floor, and theirs 
six. After a few rounds, the contest turned in their favor, 
as they had four standing to our two. For a long time it 
seemed as though these six had the book " by heart. ^' At last, 
the number was reduced to one on each side. Our opponents 
were represented by an accomplished young lady, whose 
parents had recently arrived in town, and our own school, by 
myself, a ragged little boy of ten summers, who bad sat up 
night after night, while my mother, with no other light than 
that of a pine-knot, examined me in my lessons. The 
interest of the spectators was excited to the highest pitch, as 
word after word was spelled by each. At length the young 
lady missed, and I stood alone. Her teacher said she did not 
understand the word. She declared she did ; that the honor 
was mine, and that I richly deserved it. That was a proud 
moment for me. .1 had spelled down both schools, and was 
declared victor. My cheeks burned, and my brain was dizzy 
with excitement. 

As soon as the school was dismissed, my competitor came 
and sat down by my side, and congratulated rae on my suc- 
cess, inquiring my name and age, and flatteringly predicting 
my future success in life. 

Unaccustomed to such attention, I doubtless acted as most 



188 BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 

little boys would, under sucli circumstances, injudiciously. 
At this moment, Master George Sumner, the son of the rich 
man of our neighborhood, tauntingly said to me, in the pres- 
ence of my fair friend, and before a number of boys from the 
other school — " Oh, you needn't feel so big — your folks are 
poor, and your father is a drunkard/' 

I was happy no more — I was a drunkard's son — and how 
could I look my new friends in the face ? My heart seemed 
to rise in my throat, and almost suffocated me. The hot tears 
scalded my eyes — but I kept them back; and as soon as 
possible, quietly slipping away from my companions, procured 
my dinner-basket, and, unobserved, left the scene of my 
triumph and disgrace, with a heavy heart, for my home. But 
what a home ! " My folks are poor — and my father was a 
drunkard." But why should I be reproached for that? I 
could not prevent my father's drinking; and, assisted and 
encouraged by my mother, I had done all I could to keep my 
place in my class at school, and to assist her in her worse than 
widowhood. Boy as I was, I inwardly resolved never to taste 
liquor, and to show Master George even if I was a drunkard's 
son, I would yet stand as high as he did. But all my reso- 
lution was produced by his taunting words and haughty 
manner. In this frame of mind — my head and heart aching, 
my eyes red and swollen — I reached home. My mother 
saw at once that I was in trouble, and inquired the cause. I 
buried my face in her lap, and burst into tears. Seeing 
my grief, she waited until I was more composed, when I 
told her what had happened, and added, passionately — "I 
wish father wouldn't be a drunkard, so we could be respected 
like other folks." At first, mother seemed almost over- 
whelmed, but quickly rallying, said, " My son, I feel very 
sorry for you, and regret that your feelings have been so 
injured. George has twitted you about things you cannot 
help. But never mind, my son. Be always honest, never 
taste a drop of intoxicating liquor ; study and improve your 



BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 189 

mind. Depend on your own exertions, trusting in God, and 
you will, if your life is spared, make a useful and respected 
man. I wish your father, when sober, could have witnessed 
this scene, and realize the sorrow his course brings on us all. 
But keep a brave heart, my son. Eemember you are respon- 
sible only for your own faults. Pray to God to help you, and 
don't grieve for the thoughtless and unkind reproaches that 
may be cast on you on your father's account.'^ This lesson 
of my blessed mother, I trust, was not lost upon me. Nearly 
forty years have gone since that day, and I have passed many 
trying scenes ', but none ever made so strong an impression 
on my feelings as that heartless remark of George Sumner. 
It was so unjust and so uncalled for ! Now, boys, remember 
always to treat your mates with kindness. Never indulge in 
taunting remarks toward any one, and remember that the son 
of a poor man, and even of a drunkard, may have sensibili- 
ties as keen as your own. 

But there is a conclusion to this story. The other day, a 
gentleman called at my place of business, and asked if I did 
not recognize him. I told him I did not. " Do you remem- 
ber," said he, ''being at a spelling-school on a certain time, and 
that a rude, thoughtless boy twitted you of poverty and being 
a drunkard's son V " I do, most distinctly," said I. 
''^Well," continued the gentleman, " I am that boy. There 
probably has not been a month of my life since then, but I 
have thought of that remark with regret and shame, and as 
I am about leaving for California, perhaps to end my days 
there, I could not go without first calling on you, and asking 
your forgiveness for that act." Boj^s, I gave him my hand 
as a pledge of forgiveness. Did I do right ? You all say 
yes. Well, then, let me close it as a bargain. Boys, never 
twit another for what he cannot help. 



190 BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. What do you observe to approve in the conduct of the young 
lady who came and conversed with the boy, after the spelling 
exercise ? 

2. What was wrong in the conduct of master G. ? 

3. When it was known to the other scholars that this boy's father 
was intemperate, what was their duty towards this unfortunate lad ? 

4. Which would you value more highly, were you in circumstances 
of poverty or misfortune ; kind words of sympathy and encourage- 
ment, or presents of money and goods ? 

5. Which would you rather lose, — your money and goods, or your 
good name ? 

6. The unkind remark of master G. was a source of sorrow and 
suffering to both boys afterwards. Which was probably the greater 
sufferer for this unkind expression ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Patched Dress. — "I wish I had a better dress, 
mother," said Emily Foster, as she was getting ready for 
school one cold morning in December ; " the girls laugh at 
this so ; and yesterday Julia Haven asked me if I bought it 
of the rag-man.'' 

Mrs. Foster's eyes filled with tears while her little daughter 
was speaking. A few years before, her circumstances had 
been prosperous ; but the death of her husband, and much 
sickness in the family afterwards, had reduced her to dis- 
tressing poverty. Emily was the eldest of her three children, 
and she had but just entered upon her eighth year, so that, 
— although the poor woman toiled all day with her needle, 
and Emily worked diligently almost every minute out of 
school hours, — she was hardly able to provide the family with 
the scanty food which was their daily fare, or with sufficient 
clothing to shield them from the inclemency of the weather. 



BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 191 

She had made a great effort to send her daughter to school ; 
because she was very anxious that she should learn all that 
was possible in her circumstances. She knew that she could 
go only a very short time, and then she must leave school to 
toil wearily and uninterruptedly. It was, therefore, with a 
sorrowful heart she learned that Emily had been exposed to 
ridicule on account of her patched and scanty dress. She 
tried hard, however, to conquer her emotion, and after being 
silent a moment, said : 

^' But, my dear, your dress is not ragged. There is not a 
single hole in it.^' 

" I know it, mother. I suppose they laugh at it because 
it is patched up so. I could hardly help crying yesterday, 
they made so much sport of it.'^ 

^' But it is no harm, my child, to wear a patched dress. It 
is the very best I can get for you." 

" I know that, and I try hard not to care what the girls 
say — only sometimes it makes me feel so bad.'' 

Just then a lady entered, to engage Mrs. Foster to do some 
sewing for her, and so the conversation between the mother 
and daughter was interrupted. 

Alas ! thoughtless children little know how much unhappi- 
ness they often cause those who already have sufferings 
enough from the ills of poverty ! 



7. How ougiit tlie girls to have treated Emily Foster, knowing 
that she was the daughter of a poor woman ? 

8. By laughing at the dress of this poor girl, the happiness of both 
the mother and the daughter was yery much diminished. Were the 
girls who made the sport the sufferers in any way? In what way? 



192 BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 



NARRATIVE. 

Never Ridicule the Unfortunate. — A few weeks 
since, as I was walking to meeting on a pleasant Sabbath, I 
3aw a poor cripple, who seemed to get along with great diffi- 
culty. But he loved the house of God, and would not 
willingly be absent from it. Very soon, some lads came 
down the street, and as they passed the unfortunate man, 
they stopped and gazed at him, then, laughing, pursued their 
way. 

It made me sad to see those boys, so cruel, so unfeeling. 
It could not injure the object of their mirth, for he did not 
see them ; but the person must be far gone in wickedness, 
who can derive amusement from the misfortunes of a fellow- 
being. 

We are all liable to accidents and sickness that may deprive 
us of our limbs or of our reason, and we should always treat 
those who are thus afflicted, as we ourselves would desire to 
be treated in similar circumstances. 

If we would distinguish the unfortunate in any way, it 
should be by kind and delicate attention, that would make 
them forget, if possible, their peculiar trial. 



9. What was wrong in the conduct of the feoys in the preceding 
narrative ? So long as the poor cripple did not see or hear the boys, 
what was there wrong in laughing as they did ? Who was injiu-ed 
thereby? 

10. What is our duty to the unfortunate, in reference to their 
feelings and sensibilities? 

11. Is the pressure of misfortune of itself a sufficient reason why 
we should not add to it ? 



BE KIND TO THE UNFOKTUNATE. 193 




NARRATIVE. 

A Scene.— We saw yesterday, at the Dep6t, a poor, pale, 
little girl peddling peaches among the passengers who were 
constantly coming and going through the place. Her sorrow- 
ful looks, her timid way, her pale thin face, with the traces 
of tears visible upon it^ and her meek blue eye, had their 
effect upon the strangers around, and many there were that 
bought her fruit, to cheer her heart, and with their bits of 
silver dropped a ward of kindness and encouragement in her 
ear, more precious to her than coin, after the pressing neces- 
sity that drove her among that crowd, should be satisfied. 
But one there was who excited our indignation. With a 
costly overcoat upon one arm, a well-stuffed carpet-bag in the 
other hand, in elegant apparel, and with a massive gold 
watch-chain dangling a foot in length from his fob, and end- 
17 



194 BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 

ing in a costly seal, he passed through on his way to the 
western cars. " Please buy some peaches, sir ?" said the 
little girl, with an arch twist of the head and a pleasant 
smile playing about her lips, brought there by the cheerful 
words that had fallen so like a gentle blessing on her heart. 
" Some peaches ? only a penny apiece," and she held out her 
basket. " Get away with your trash I" was the surly response 
of this human mastiff, accompanied by a kick, which knocked 
the basket from the poor creature's hand and scattered its 
contents among a crowd of greedy boys, who commenced 
picking up the fruit and devouring it. 

The clouds of sorrow all came back again in a moment, 
and, at this new trouble, her tears gushed forth from her eyes 
afresh. A citizen who stood by, quietly stepped up and paid 
for the peaches, and bade her never mind. The man (?) who 
did it went on with a look of conscious mightiness, and seated 
himself in the car. We saw that his baggage was labelled 

— " , home," where he doubtless secures the fawning 

always attendant upon wealth, and is considered a respectable 
member of the community. 



12. Under what circumstances would you expect the man in the 
preceding narrative to be kind to others? What ffreat deeds of 
benevolence would you expect him to do ? 

] 3. How many good principles or precepts in morals did this man 
violate besides the "golden rule," in treating this little girl as he did ? 
What are they ? 

14. Some persons desire to be respected for their fine personal 
appearance, some for their expensive or fashionable dress, and some 
for their rich relatives. What qualities do you think should entitle 
us to respect and sympathy from all ? 



BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 195 

VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIE\7. 

1. Boys sometimes tease, and annoy, and abuse drunken men. 
If a man is so very unfortunate as to be a drunkard, what is our 
duty towards bim ? 

2. Persons who are insane or idiotic sometimes wander about the 
country. What treatment is due to them ? 

3. Families that are very poor sometimes travel through cities and 
the country, and boys make sport of their poverty and distress. 
How ought we to treat these poor travellers ? 

4. Sometimes very worthy persons, who have lost an eye, or a 
limb, are treated with coldness and neglect on this account, by their 
acquaintances, or by strangers. If you should become deformed by 
an accident upon the rail road, or from any other cause, how would 
you like to be treated ? 

5. Old and infirm people are often neglected on account of their 
age or infirmity. How should this be ? 

6. Persons who have not had the advantages of education or of 
much society, often have their feelings much injured by the ridicule, 
or the sneers, or the haughtiness of those who have had superior 
advantages. Is this conduct, on the part of the latter, consistent 
with Christian feeling or generosity ? 

7. If we know that children, or others, are suffering from cruelty 
or misconduct which they cannot prevent, what is always our duty 
towards them ? 

8. In what ways do people often unnecessarily add to the sorrows 
of others? 

9. In what ways might they often exert themselves to prevent or to 
lessen these sorrows ? 

10. "Which would give you the more pleasure, — to wait upon a sick 
friend, yourself, or to pay some one else to do it ? 

11. Which would give you the more pleasure, — to help unfortunate 
persons yourself, or to contribute money to compensate others for 
helping them? 

12. What employment is more gratifying than that of helping 
such as need our assistance ? 



196 BE KIND TO THE UNFORTUNATE. 



UNKIND EXPRESSIONS. 

Oh ! never let us lightly fling 
A barb of woe to wound another; 

Oh ! never let us haste to bring 
The cup of sorrow to a brother. 

Each has the power to wound; but he 
Who wounds that he 'may witness pain, 

Has spurned a law of charity, 
Which ne'er inflicts a pang in vain. 

'T is godlike to awaken joy, 

Or sorrow's influence to subdue — 

But not to wound, nor to annoy. 
Is part of virtue's lesson too. 

Peace, winged in fairer worlds above, 
Shall lend her beams to brighten this, 

When all man's labor shall be love. 
And all his aim his brother's bliss. 



LESSON XXIV. 



DO RIGHT AND FEAR NOT. 
NARRATIVE. 

Do Right and Fear not. — In the spring of the year 
1770, a large military and naval force sent out from England 
was stationed at Boston, to overawe the people and keep down 
the spirit of liberty which was rising in the colonies. The 
proceeding was, of course very odious to the citizens, and 
the British soldiers were often subjects of taunt and insult. 
On the evening of the 5th of March, a turbulent party of 
men and boys surrounded a sergeant's guard, and pelted 
them with snow-balls. Irritated to the highest degree, they 
fired upon their assailants, and killed five of them. The 
indignation of the populace was deep and violent, and could 
scarcely be restrained by the force of the law. The soldiers 
were arrested and charged with wilful murder. Their chance 
for a fair trial in such a community was indeed desperate. 
They applied to John Adams, (father of the late John 
Quincy Adams,) and Josiah Quincy, Jr., (father of the late 
President of Harvard College,) two of the first lawyers of 
their day, and also two of the most fearless and determined 
opposers of British oppression. It was a rare compliment 
that these forlorn prisoners paid to the integrity and magnani- 
mity of these patriotic gentlemen. They, (Messrs. Adams 
and Quincy,) were satisfied that the soldiers acted in self- 
defence, and that they were guilty of nothing more than what 
is called justifiable homicide; — in other words, that the law 
would not hold them guilty of murder. 

17* (197) 



198 DO RIGHT AND FEAR NOT. 

There was reason to fear that the voice of justice would 
not be heard in the din and clamor of political strife ; and 
yet for them to become the defenders of such men — to protect 
and befriend the invaders of the country, and the minions of 
despotic power, was to encounter the storm of popular passion, 
and expose themselves to the loss of reputation, property, and 
public confidence. 

They, nevertheless, did what duty demanded. Justice 
was maintained — the law was vindicated — and the rights 
even of an enemy were respected. For a time, however, the 
exalted name and virtues of the two patriots were not duly esti- 
mated and acknowledged, and it was not until the excitement 
of the circumstances passed away, that their noble and mag- 
nanimous course received its proper meed of admiration, and 
their character shone forth with increased brightness. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Wliat do you observe to commend in the conduct of Mr, Adams 
and Mr. Quincy ? 

2. Had the people of Boston threatened Mr. Adams and Mr. Quincy 
with imprisonment, if they presumed to defend these British soldiers, 
what you would have advised them to do ? 

3. Suppose these gentlemen had refused to defend the soldiers, — 
saying, that " If they lost their influence with the American people, 
they could no longer hope to be useful in the great and good cause 
of their country," what would you say of the sufiSciency of such an 
excuse ? 



NARRATIVE. 

I CANNOT TELL A LiE. — In the War of the Revolution, 
while General Lafayette commanded in the American army, 
a part of the troops were encamped, at a certain place near 
the water's edge. One calm summer's evening, a soldier, 
who was a fifer in one of the companies, went into the water 
for the purpose of bathing. Beiug an excellent swimmer as 



DO RIGHT AND FEAR NOT. 199 

well as musician, he took his fife to the water, and engaged 
in fifing and swimming at the same time. The music reached 
the ear of Lafayette. Early the next morning, he sent an 
officer in pursuit of the man, who had thus disobeyed the 
orders of the camp. 

The soldier was a native of Connecticut, and a man of 
truth. When arrested by the officer, and on the way to the 
General's tent, he thought within himself that perhaps he 
might escape a severe punishment by denying the deed. On 
a few moment's reflection, however, he concluded, *"' I have 
always spoken the truth — I cannot tell a lie." With this prin- 
ciple in his mind, he came into the presence of the General, who 
asked him if he was the individual who played on the water 
the evening before ? to which he replied, " I am." ^^And do 
you know," continued Lafayette, '^of any others who can 
play the same tune ?" "I do — two or three," said the sol- 
dier. " To-morrow evening then, at seven o'clock, I wish 
you to repair to my tent with them." He came at the 
appointed time. The General then informed them, that the 
tune which he had heard the evening before, affected him 
very much — that on a former occasion it had been played at 
the funeral of a dear friend of his, who died in his native 
country. Since then, until now, he had never met with one 
who could play it : '^And for the purpose of indulging in the 
melancholy pleasure of hearing it once more, I have," said 
he, ^^sent for you.'' 

The General, after being agreeably entertained by the 
music of his guests, dismissed them with his thanks, and 
some guineas from his purse, as an expression of his satisfac- 
tion with their performance. 



4. In the army, soldiers were, at that time, often whipped for dis- 
obedience to military discipline. Which would have been the severer 
punishment to the soldier, in the last narrative, the whipping, or the 
reproof of his conscience ? 



200 DO RIGHT AND TEAR NOT. 

5. Which, probably, afforded the soldier the purer and higher 
enjoyment, the consciousness of doing right, or the guineas from the 
purse of General Lafayette ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Juvenile Magnanimity. — A lad was once called before 
tlie police court, in one of our large cities, for throwing a 
stone which struck a little girl in her eye — the respecta- 
bility of the parties excited a considerable interest, and drew 
many persons to hear the examination. The boy was bound 
to appear at the Municipal Court, and Col. Mason was engaged 
as his counsel. Soon after the examination, another boy, 
about twelve years of age, called upon the Colonel, and asked, 

"Sir, are you engaged to defend V "Yes, I am; 

why do you ask?^' To which the little fellow replied, with 
honesty worthy of his immortal grandfather, " Because, sir, I 
threw the stone, and cannot suffer a comrade to be punished 
for a crime of my own commission.'' "Well done — you are 

a fine boy ; what is your name V " My name is .'' 

"Weiy said the counsellor, admiring the noble-heartedness 
of the lad, " will you tell the county attorney that you com- 
mitted the act?'' "Yes, sir," said he, and immediately 
went to the attorney's office for that purpose. The friends 
of the injured girl, on hearing these particulars, declined 
taking any further steps in the matter. 



G. What persons were benefited by the confession of this boy ? In 
■what way was the boy himself benefited by the confession ? 

7. The lad's associates probably knew of this courageous conduct. 
In what way would they be thereby benefited ? 

8. Which do you more admire, — the fearless honesty of this boy, 
or the kindness and forbearance of the friends of the injured g:rl ? 



JDO RIGHT AND FEAR NOT. 201 



NARRATIVE. 

First Step to Distinction. — Known to all is the pro- 
verb, " Honesty is the best policy ;'' and yet how many neg- 
lect to make it the rule of their conduct ! 

The history of few men more strikingly illustrates the 
truth of this proverb, than that of the able and illustrious 
French minister, Jean Baptiste Colbert. In Chambers's Mis- 
cellany, No. 1, is a beautiful " Story of Colbert," from which 
it appears, that he might have said, at the close of his bril- 
liant career, with Corneille, " I owe all my renown to myself.'' 
His first step to distinction was an act of honor and honesty. 
In early life he was an apprentice to a woollen-draper. In 
selling a piece of goods to a Parisian banker, he made through 
a mistake an overcharge of two hundred and fifty crowns ; 
and received the amount of the bill. His knavish old mas- 
ter, on learning the fact, was delighted, and exclaimed, 
*' You are a fine boy, a good boy, Baptiste ; you will one day 
be an honor to all your friends. Six hundred and thirty 
francs profit on the piece ! Oh, happy day !" And he agreed 
to let Baptiste have something of the profits as a reward. 
But no sooner did the honest boy learn the mistake, and hear 
this remark of his master, than he replied, '' How, godfather, 
would you take advantage I" — And taking up his hat, he con- 
tinued, " I will go to the gentleman whom I have treated so 
badly, beg him to excuse me, and return him the money he 
overpaid," and he immediately accomplished this honest reso- 
lution ; and for so doing, was turned out of employment. 
But fhis act of honor and honesty, proved the truth of the 
above proverb, and became his first step to distinction. The 
next day, the rich banker, learning all the facts connected 
with the conduct of this honest boy, took him into his own 
banking-house. From that first step, his career was upward 
in the road of usefulness and honor, till he was created 



202 DO EIGHT AND FEAE NOT. 

'^ Comptroller-G-eneral of Finance," by Louis XIY. He 
closed his useful and brilliant life in 1683, at the age of 
sixty-four. 



9. The master of Colbert, in the last narrative, offered him a por- 
tion of the profits " a^ a reward" for bringing him so much of another 
man's money. Though Colbert received not a penny of the money, 
did he have any " rewards " for his honesty ? 

10. Among all the "rewards" which Colbert received in the 
course of his life for this act, which was the greatest reward ? 

11. "What seemed to be Colbert's motives in doing right? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF EIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. What hinders any one from always doing right? What gain is 
there in doing wrong ? 

2. Some persons seem to be afraid to do right: what is the danger? 

3. Shall we hesitate to follow the path of duty, even though we 
may lose friends, and suffer unjust punishment thereby ? 

4. In which case is it more difficult to do right, — when we fear 
giving offence to our best friends, or when we fear persecution and 
violence from our enemies ? 

5. In which case would it be more difficult for you to be strictly 
upright, — when you would thereby incur the ridicule of your friends, 
or when, by a little deception, you might make a thousand dollars ? 

G. Which do you think more difficult, — to tell the truth, when a 
little deception or concealment will save you from a merited censure, 
or when your friends ridicule you for your scruples ? 

7. Under what circumstances do you think it is the most difficult 
to do right ? 

8. Is it quite as easy for a boy to be kind and trustful, after having 
just told a lie, or spoken a cross word ? 

9. Which would you think the more important, — that one should 
early learn habits of virtue, or learn all the sciences taught in the 
schools ? 



DO RIGHT AND FEAR NOT. 203 

10. Which would you think more worthy of honor, he who would 
dare to be honest and true, when friends and enemies opposed, — or 
he who has reached the highest public stations by his talents and 
learning ? 

11. What must always be our motive in choosing the right course? 

12. What rewards are there in doing right from virtuous motives ? 



KEEP TO THE RIGHT. 

<^Keep to the right," as the law directs, 
For such is the rule of the road : 
Keep to the right, whoever expects 
Securely to carry life's load. 

Keep to the right, with God and his word 5 

Nor wander, though folly allure ; 
Keep to the right, nor ever be turned 

From what 's faithful and holy and pure. 

Keep to the right, within and without, 
With stranger and kindred and friend; 

Keep to the right, and you need have no doubt, 
That all will be well in the end. 

Keep to the right in whatever you do. 
Nor claim but your own on the way; 

Keep to the right, and hold on to the true. 
From the morn to the close of life's day. 



LESSOR XXV 



BE PATIENT AND HOPEFUL. 



NARRATIVE. 

Never be Discouraged. — '^ mother," said Hugh, " if 
I am so lame, I can never be a soldier or a sailor — I can 
never go round the world \" 

And Hugh burst into tears, now more really afflicted than 
he had been yet. His mother sat on the bed beside him, and 
wiped away his tears as they flowed, while he told her, as well 
as his sobs would let him, how long and how much he had 
reckoned on going round the world, and how little he cared 
for. anything else in the future ; and now this was just the 
very thing he should never be able to do ! He had practised 
climbing ever since he could -remember, and now that was of 
no use ', — he had practised marching, and now he should 
never march again. When he had finished his complaint, 
there was a pause, and his mother said — 

^' Hugh, do you remember Richard Grant ?" 

^'What, the cabinet-maker? The man who carved so 
beautifully ?" 

^^ Yes. Do you remember no, you could hardly have 

known : but I will tell you. He had planned a most beauti- 
ful set of carvings in wood, for a chapel belonging to a 
nobleman's mansion. He was to be well paid — his work was 
so superior j and he would be able to make his parents com- 
fortable, as well as his wife and children. But the thing 
he most cared for was the honor of producing a noble work 
which would outlive him. Well, at the very beginning of 
his task, his chisel flew up against his wrist, and the narrow 
cut that it made — not more than half an inch wide — made 

(204) 



BE PATIENT AND HOPEFUL, 205 

his right hand entirely useless for life. He could never again 
hold a tool; his work was gone — his business in life seemed 
over — the support of the whole family was taken away — 
and the only strong wish Richard Grant had in the world 
was disappointed/^ 

Hugh hid his face with his handkerchief, and his mother 
went on : — 

*^ You have heard of Huber ?" 

" The man who found out so much about bees. Miss 
Harold read that account to us." 

" Bees and ants. When Huber had discovered more than 
had ever been known before about bees and ants, and when 
he was sure he could learn more still, and was more and more 
anxious to peep and pry into their tiny homes, and their 
curious ways, Huber became blind." 

Hugh sighed, and his mother went on : — 

" Did you ever hear of Beethoven ? He was one of the 
greatest musical composers that ever lived. His great, his 
sole delight was in music. It was the passion of his life. 
When all his time and all his mind were given to music, he 
became deaf — perfectly deaf, so that he never more heard 
one single note from the loudest orchestra. While crowds 
were moved and delighted with his compositions, it was all 
silent to him." 

Hugh said nothing. 

" Now, do you think," asked his mother — and Hugh saw, 
by the grey light that began to shine in, that she smiled — 
" do you think that these people were without a heavenly 
Parent?" 

^' no ! But were they all patient?" 

"Yes, in their different ways and degrees. Would you 
say that they were harshly treated ? or would you rather sup- 
pose that their Father gave them something more and better 
to do than they had planned for themselves ?" 

"He must know best, of course; but it does seem hard 
18 



206 BE PATIENT AND HOPEFUL. 

that that very thing should happen to them. Huber would 
not have so much minded being deaf, perhaps; or that 
musical man being blind; or Richard Grant losing his foot, 
instead of his hand, for he did not want to go round the 
world." 

*' No doubt their hearts often swelled within them at their 
disappointments; but I fully believe that they very soon 
found that God's will was wiser than their wishes. They 
found, if they bore their trial well, that there was work for 
their hearts to do, far nobler than any work that the head 
can do through the eye, and the ear, and the hand. And 
they soon felt a new and delicious pleasure, which none but 
the bitterly disappointed can feel.'' 

<' What is that?" 

" The pleasure of rousing their souls to bear pain, and of 
agreeing with God silently, when nobody knows what is in 
their hearts. There is a great pleasure in the exercise of the 
body — in making the heart beat, and the limbs glow, in a 
run by the sea-side, or a game in the play-ground ; but this 
is nothing to the pleasure of exercising one's soul in bearing 
pain — in finding one's heart glow with the hope that one is 
pleasing God." 

'^ Shall I feel that pleasure ?'' 

" Often and often, I have no doubt — every time that you 
can willingly give up your wish to be a soldier or a sailor — 
or anything else that you have set your mind upon, if you 
can smile to yourself, and say that you will be content at 
home. — Well, I don't expect it of you yet. I dare say it 
was long a bitter thing to Beethoven to see hundreds of 
people in raptures with his music, when he could not hear a 
note of it. And Huber " 

^^ But did Beethoven get to smile ?" 

" If he did, he was happier than all the fine music in the 
world could have made him.'^ 

"I wonder — ! I wonder, if I ever shall feel so.'* 



BE PATIENT AND HOPEFUL. 207 

^^ We will pray to God that you may. Shall we ask him 
now r 

Hugh clasped his hands. His mother kneeled beside the 
bed, and, in a very few words prayed that Hugh might be 
able to bear his misfortune well, and that his friends might 
give him such help and comfort as God should approve. 

''Now, my dear, you will sleep again," she said, as she 
arose. 

" If you will lie down too, instead of sitting by the fire. 
Do, mother.'^ 

She did so; and they were soon both fast asleep. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Hugh, the boy in the narrative, felt much grieved at the thought 
of being lame for life. What worse affliction might have happened 
to him ? What enjoyments might still be left him ? 

2. In what manner was the cabinet-maker much disappointed? 
In what way was Huber disappointed ? — Beethoven ? 

3. Hugh was reminded by his mother that there was a purer and 
more exquisite pleasui^e than that of bodily exercise. What was that 
pleasure ? 

4. When Hugh knew that he was to be lame for life, though it 
was a very severe disappointment to him, yet was it right for him to 
complain ? 

6. What was better for him than to murmur ? 

6. Possibly, by being compelled to abandon his purpose of travelling, 
his life was providentially preserved. While this was possible, what 
was Hugh's duty ? 



EXTRACT. 



Be Patient under Difficulties. — Impatience only 
makes you more unhappy, and makes those around you 
uncomfortable. When you are engaged in trying to learn a 
lesson which it seems almost impossible for you to understand, 



208 BE PATIENT AND HOPEFUL. 

if you go over it again patiently and carefully you will 
probably see into it better than you did at first ; and if you 
do not, it is far from helping the matter, to be peevish and 
irritable about it. And if your friends see that you are 
patient under difficulties, they will love to assist you, and will 
cheerfully explain to you what you could not before under- 
stand. Besides all this, it is very wicked to indulge in impa- 
tience. God sees the trait of character which you are mani- 
festing, and is displeased. When you are again tempted to 
be impatient and fretful, think of this : it may enable you 
to overcome the temptation. 



7. When you find particular lessons very difficult, what should 
you do ? 

8. If you do not have as great advantages as others for attending 
school, how ought you to feel about it ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Heroic fortitude. — The eminent Richard Baxter, 

of England, was seized at the age of fourteen with a dreadful 
disease, which wasted his flesh, and gave him the appearance 
of a person in the last stage of consumption. He was under 
the care of thirty-six different physicians, and all without any 
apparent benefit. He was diseased literally from head to 
foot ; had a weak, disordered stomach, dreadful head-aches, 
cough, rheumatism, and his blood was so thin and acrid that 
it often oozed out from his finger-ends, and kept them con- 
tinually tender; so that at twenty he had all the appearances, 
and more than the ordinary diseases, of four-score. Surely, 
if ever man in this world had a right to be idle, it was this 
poor martyr to disease; nay, it might naturally be supposed 
that he would of necessity be compelled to relinquish all 
exertion. 

Yet he resolutely bore up against it all ; preached fourteen 



BE PATIENT AND HOPEFUL. 209 

years with great success ; was a constant distributor of bless- 
ings to the poor; bore the expenses of educating several 
young men who afterwards became 'honest and able ministers 
of the gospel ; and wrote no less than sixty considerable 
volumes on various theological subjects. This was the work 
of a man, who probably never enjoyed a single day of good 
health after he was fourteen years of age. 



9. What occasion was there for Richard Baxter to be melancholy 
and desponding ? 

10. What reason was there that he should be patient and hopeful? 

11. If Mr, Baxter could have been offered entire bodily health, 
with the condition that he should no more distribute blessings to the 
poor, or be longer useful to his fellow-men, what do you think he 
would have done ? 

12. Though so feeble in body nearly all his life, how did his labors 
compare in amount with those of most other men ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. If, in the full enjoyment of your health, you should suddenly 
become blind, how ought you to feel xinder the affliction ? 

2. While preparing yourself to become a first-rate mechanic, 
suppose you should accidentally lose your right arm — ho^v ought 
you to feel ? 

3. If you had earned one thousand dollars by your own labors, 
and should suddenly lose it by fire or accident, how ought you to 
feel and act ? 

4. If you should ever be confined to your bed by a lingering and 
painful disease, how ought you to feel ? 

5. If, in attempting to do your duty, you should incur the dis- 
pleasure of others, and receive abuse and insults in return for 
kindness and good intentions, how should you feel and act ? 

6. But if we do not meet vrith great calamities, we are sometimes 
very much disappointed in our expectations. How are we to feel 
and act in such cases ? 

18* 



210 BE MERCIFUL TO ANIMALS. 

7. In trying to be patient and hopeful under all circumstances of 
trial and disappointment, what other virtues may we, at the same 
time, be cultivating? 

8. Have you ever known any instances where it was better that 
persons should be disappointed than that they should have all their 
wishes or expectations gratified? 

9. You have, sometimes, been very much disappointed. In what 
cases are you certain that such disappointments were not for your 
advantage ? 

10. Have you ever known any instances where very feeble persons 
have been far more useful than persons in good health ? 

11. It often requires great effort to be resigned to disappoint- 
ments and trials. What advantage is there in the exercise of this 
duty ? 

12. When our friends who are sympathising with us in our trials, 
know that we are exercising self-control, or self-denial, or forgiveness, 
or patient submission, how will they be affected towards us ? 

13. Of persons who are equally healthy and equally strong, 
which can accomplish most, those who are uniformly cheerful and 
hopeful, or those who are complaining and despairing ? 

14. Under what circumstances do you think it right for any one to 
murmur and yield to despair ? 



LESSON XXVI. 



BE MERCIFUL TO ANIMALS. 



NARRATIVE. 



Cruelty to Birds. — A friend of mine was pleased the 
other morning, as he passed down a street to the town near 
which I live, to observe an instance of feeling for birds in a 
poor woman, whose voice he heard very loudly reproving an 



BE MERCIFUL TO ANIMALS. 211 

idle bojj wlio had just been doing what we have often seen 
reproved. The hoy had been using his utmost efforts to take 
down the nest of a poor little martin from under the eave of 
a house, and had just succeeded in cruelly destroying it; 
when, alas ! too late to prevent the mischief from being done, his 
reprover ran out of her door, and used a very excellent mode 
of bringing home to his mind a sense of the cruelty he had 
shown. She was crying out to him in this manner when my 
friend passed : " You little mischief, how would you like to 
have your house pulled down about your ears ?" Very 
miserable, no doubt, that little urchin would have been, if 
his own home had been destroyed as thoroughly as the nest 
of the bird was by his hand ; but he never thought of that ; 
he never remembered that the bird had feelings as well as 
he : he thought of his own amusement ; and nothing else. 
The next thing would be that he would learn not to care for 
the feelings of another boy ; then not for the feelings of his 
own mother and father, and brothers ; and, perhaps^ he might 
at last learn to do them all great injuries, just for want of 
thinking that they feel. Cruelty to animals leads, I am sure, 
very often to cruelty to every thing. From laughing at the 
cry of a bird, it is easy to go on to laughing at the cry of one's 
own kindred; just as the Roman people, in ancient times, 
after being accustomed to delight in the dying roar and 
struggle of wild beasts in their theatres, learned to take the 
same savage pleasure in the death of men and women, and 
Christian martyrs, tormented in the same place by wild beasts 
for their amusement. And they called this a "holiday.'^ 
There is a wide difference, I own, between this and the 
school-boy's holiday, when he goes out rifling nests and de- 
stroying young birds; but still there is too much of an 
unfeeling heart in the amusement which can be found in 
giving pain to the least and the lowest of animals. A Chris- 
tian child ought to be still further from a heathen crowd than 
in merely the selection he makes of the objects of his cruelty. 



212 BE MERCIFUL TO ANIMALS. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. The Roman people, in ancient times, took delight in seeing 
animals fight with each other. What do you see to disapprove in 
such amusements ? 

2. Have you ever known any persons in modern times, who delighted 
to see dogs, or other animals, fight with and destroy each other ? 

3. When persons have learned to take delight in seeing cruelty, 
what would you expect of them as to the practice of cruelty them- 
selves ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Hornet's Nest. — A boy wlio delighted in torturing 
animals, once discovered a hornet's nest near the woods which 
skirted the pasture lands of a Mr. Williams. Perhaps you 
never saw a hornet's nest ; they are round, with a hole at the 
bottom, through which the hornets pass in and out, and hang 
on the limb of a tree, or bush. Hornets have powerful 
stings, and will swarm like bees when their nest is disturbed, 
and fight dreadfully. This wicked boy plagued the hornets 
from day to day, till they became very cross, and then he got 
some salt, and called Mr. Williams's horses and cattle in the 
field, and fed them with it under and around the little tree on 
which the hornet's nest hung. As soon as they were well 
engaged licking the salt, he threw a club against the nest, 
when out came the hornets upon the horses and cattle, and 
stung them dreadfully. They ran, and snorted, and kicked 
as though they would kill themselves. 

But he got punished, as you will see. He was so much 
pleased to see the poor horses jump and writhe in agony, that 
he forgot himself, leaped out from his concealment, hopping 
up and down, slapping his hands, and laughed and shouted 
at a great rate. Had he remained quiet behind the bushes, 
where he hid after throwing the club at the nest, nothing 
would have harmed him ; but rushing out as he did, a portion 



BE MERCIFUL TO ANIMALS. 213 

of the hornets were attracted by him, and in the midst of his 
shouts at the misery he had caused, he felt a dreadful sting 
inflicted on his face, and before he could flee, he was stung 
with much severity several times. Next day his face and his 
eyes were so swollen, that he could not see. It soon became 
generally known how he had behaved in the matter ; and no 
one felt regret or pity for so cruel a boy. His young com- 
panions jeered and laughed at him ; while his more con- 
siderate friends showed, by the gravity of their looks, how 
much they disapproved his conduct. 



4. This boy delighted in seeing animals suffer pain. How wonld 
you expect lie would feel when he met unfortunate persons ? How 
would you expect him to treat such persons ? 

5. If such a boy should receive injuries from any one, what 
would you expect him to return ? Under what circumstances would 
you expect him to exhibit moral courage ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Cruelty to Animals Punished. — Peter Eomming, the 
son of a wealthy farmer, was a very cruel boy. He took 
great delight in torturing dumb animals. I am afraid to put 
on paper the way he treated flies, beetles, dogs, and cats, 
while their cries and groans were like music to his ears ; it 
would make your blood run cold. The poor creatures could 
not defend themselves, they could not punish their oppressor, 
there was nobody to take their part. Did I say there was 
nobody to take their part ? I did not actually mean so, for 
God was on their side. He saw the cruelties practised upon 
them, and he did not intend to let the perpetrator always go 
unpunished. 

Peter pursued this course till he became a man, when he 
went to work with a brewer. One day his hat fell into a vat 



214 BE MERCIFUL TO ANIMALS. 

of boiling beer : in trying to catch it, he lost his balance, and 
fell in also ; in falling, he grasped the rim of the vat with 
both hands, and cried for help. He was soon drawn out, but 
his feet were dreadfully scalded by the hot beer. He roared 
in agony, and cursed and swore in a most dreadful manner. 
After a while he grew more quiet, though his face was the 
picture of despair. He asked to see a minister, and one was 
sent for. 

" 0, Sir,'^ he explained, " God is terribly punishing me 
for my sins, especially for my cruelty to his creatures. I 
have tortured many hundreds, and now what agony do I my- 
self endure ! Were I a thief, I might make amends for the 
stolen goods ; but I can never restore life to the animals which 
I have murdered, and who had nothing but life to rejoice in. 
How can God be merciful to me, since I have been so un- 
merciful ? His anger is upon me. His justice has overtaken 
me ; wretched man that I am V 

The doctor came, and said that before half an hour his legs 
must be taken off, or he would die. Did he not then think 
how many limbs he had pulled off in sport ? He could not 
help thinking of it. Peter could not bear to think of dying, 
so he put his legs under the surgeon's knife, and only cried 
out against his sins during the painful operation. 

Dark and distressing days followed. The minister came 
often to see him, instructed him in the gospel, and begged 
him to repent and trust in Christ for mercy. It is hoped that 
this poor man found mercy. God is more merciful than 
man. He gained his health and lived many years. On 
every proper occasion he told his distressing story, that the 
young might take warning from his awful example. 



6. Some persons learn wisdom by thinking and feeling, and some 
learn wisdom by suffering. How did Peter learn wisdom ? 

7. Peter could, at last, probably, treat animals with kindness. 
"What better way is there of learning to treat animals kij.xdly than 
that which Peter pursued ? 



SUBMISSION TO WRONG. 215 



VAKLED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REYIEW. 

1. "What proof can be shown that animals ever feel pain? 

2. What evidence is there that animals dread death ? — that 
animals love theii* young ? — that they try to aid each other in 
disti'ess ? 

3. May persons erer learn to take pleasure in kind acts ? In Tvhat 
manner ? 

4. May persons, by practice, acquire habits of cruelty ? 

5. Can a yirtuous man, or a yirtuous boy, feel a pleasui-e in 
caiising pain to anybody, or to anything, unnecessarily ? 

6. Under -R-hat circumstances do you think it right to take the life 
of animals ? 

7. Under -what circumstances do you think it in'ong to take the 
life of animals ? 

8. Is there anything -vn-ong in shooting birds or squirrels in the 
■woods and fields, just for sport ? 

9. If it is right to shoot birds for sport, is it not right to strip off 
their feathers and break their wings just for sport ? 

10. Do persons who treat animals with cruelty, injui'e themselves 
in any way, at the same time ? In what manner ? 

11. What advantage is there in treating animals with mercy and 
kindness ? 



LESSON XXVII. 

IT IS BETTER TO SUFFER WRONG THAN TO DO WRONG. 
NARRATIVE. 

Not Ashamed of Ridicule. — I shall never forget a 
lesson which I received when quite a young lad, at an 

academy in B . Among my school-fellows were Hartly 

and Jemson. They were somewhat older than myself, and 



216 



SUBMISSION TO WRONa, 




« What's the price of milk?" 



the latter I looked up to as a sort of leader in matters of 
opinion as of sport. He was not, at heart, malicious, but he 
had a foolish ambition of being thought witty and sarcastic, 
and he made himself feared by a besetting habit of turning 
things into ridicule, so that he seemed continually looking out 
for matters of derision. 

Ilartly was a new scholar, and little was known of him 
among the boys. One morning, as we were on our way to 
school, he was seen driving a cow along the road toward a 
neighboring field. A group of boys, among whom was 
Jcmson, met him as he was passing. The opportunity was 
not to be lost by Jemson. " Halloa !'' he exclaimed ; 
"what is the price of milk? I say, Jonathan, what do you 
feed her on 't What will you take for all the gold on her 



SUBMISSION TO WRONG. 217 

horns ? Boys, if you want to see the latest Paris style, look 
at those boots ?" 

Hartlj, waving his hand at us with a pleasant smile, and 
driving the cow to the field, took down the bars of a rail 
fence, saw her safely in the enclosure, and then putting up 
the bars, came and entered the school with the rest of us. 
After school, in the afternoon, he let out the cow, and drove 
her off, none of us knew where. And every day, for two or 
three weeks, he went through the same task. 

The boys who attended the Academy were nearly all the 
sons of wealthy parents, and some of them, among whom was 
Jemson, were dunces enough to look down with a sort of dis- 
dain upon a scholar who had to drive a cow. The sneers and 
jeers of Jemson were accordingly often renewed. He once, 
on a plea that he did not like the odor of the barn, refused 
to sit next to Hartly. Occasionally he would inquire after 
the cow's health, pronouncing the word ^'ke-ow/' after the 
manner of some of the country people. 

Hartly, with admirable good-nature, bore all these silly 
attempts to wound and annoy him. I do not remember that 
he was even once betrayed into a look or word of angry re- 
taliation. " I suppose, Hartly,'^ said Jemson one day, ^' I 
suppose your lady means to make a milkman of you." "Why 
not ?" asked Hartly. " 0, nothing • only don't leave much 
water in the cans after you rinse them — that's all I'' The 
boys laughed, and Hartly, not in the least mortified, replied, 
"Never fear; if ever I should rise to be a milkman, Til give 
good measure and good milk.'' 

The day after this conversation, there was a public exhibi- 
tion, at which a number of ladies and gentlemen from other 
cides were present. Prizes were awarded by the Principal 
of our Academy, and both Hartly and Jemson received a 
creditable number ; for, in respect to scholarship, the two were 
about equal. After the ceremony of distribution, the Prin- 
cipal remarked that there was one prize, consisting of a 
19 



218 SUBMISSION TO WRONG. 

medalj which was rarely awarded, not so much on account 
of its great cost, as because the instances were rare which 
rendered its bestowal proper. It was the prize for heroism. 
The last boy on whom it was conferred, was young Manners, 
who, three years ago, rescued the blind girl from drowning. 

The Principal then said, that, with the permission of the 
company, he would relate a short story. Not long since, 
some scholars were flying a kite in the street, just as a poor 
boy on horseback rode by on his way to the mill. The horse 
took fright and threw the boy, injuring him so badly that he 
was carried home, and confined some weeks to his bed. Of 
the boys who had unintentionally caused the disaster, none 
followed to learn the fate of the wounded boy. There was 
one, however, who witnessed the accident from a distance, and 
stayed to render what services he could. 

This scholar soon learned that the wounded boy was the 
grandson of a poor widow, whose sole support consisted in 
selling the milk of a fine cow of which she was the owner. 
Alas ! what could she now do ? She was old and lame, and 
her grandson, on whom she depended to drive the cow to 
pasture, was now on his back, helpless. '' Never mind, good 
woman,'' said the scholar, " I can drive your cow !" With 
blessings and thanks, the widow accepted his oifer. 

But his kindness did not stop here. Money was wanted to 
get articles from the apothecary. " I have money that my 
mother sent me to buy a pair of boots : but I can do without 
them for awhile." '^0, no," said she, ''I can't consent to 
that; but here is a pair of cow-hide boots that I bought for 
Henry, who can't wear them. If you would only buy these, 
giving us what they cost, we should get along nicely." The 
scholar bought the boots, clumsy as they were, and has worn 
them up to this time. 

Well, when it was discovered by other boys of the Academy 
that our scholar was in the habit of driving a cow, he was 
assailed with laughter and ridicule. His cow-hide boots, in 



SUBMISSION TO WRONG. 219 

particular, were made matters of mirth. But he kept on 
cheerfully and bravely, day after day, never shunning 
observation, and driving the widow's cow, and wearing his 
thick boots, contented in the thought that he was doing 
right, not caring for all the jeers and sneers that could be 
uttered. He never undertook to explain why he drove a 
cow ; for he was not inclined to display his charitable motives, 
and, furthermore, in his heart he had no sympathy with the 
false pride that looks with ridicule on any useful employ- 
ment. It was by mere accident that his course of kindness 
and self-denial was yesterday discovered by his teacher. 

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you. Was 
there not true heroism in this boy's conduct? Nay, master 
Hartly, do not steal out of sight behind the black-board ! 
You were not afraid of ridicule — you must not be afraid of 
praise. Come forth, come forth, master Edward James 
Hartly, and let us see your honest face ! 

As Hartly, with blushing cheeks, made his appearance, a 
round of applause, in which the whole company joined, spoke 
the general approbation of his conduct. — The ladies stood 
upon benches, and waved their handkerchiefs. The old men 
wiped the gathering moisture from the corners of their eyes, 
and clapped their hands. Those clumsy boots on Hartley's 
feet seemed prouder ornaments than a crown wQuld have been 
on his head. The medal was bestowed on him amid general 
acclamation. - 

Let me tell a good thing of Jemson before I conclude. He 
was heartily ashamed of bis ill-natured raillery, and after we 
were dismissed, he went with tears in his eyes and tendered 
his hand to Hartly, making a handsome apology for his past 
ill-manners. "Think no more of it, old fellow," said Hartly, 
with delightful cordiality ; " let us all go and have a ramble 
in the woods before we break up for vacation." The boys, 
one and all, followed Jemson's example; and then we set 
forth with huzzas into the woods. What a happy day it was ! 



220 SUBMISSION TO WRONG. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. .It was, doubtless, painful to the feelings of Hartly to be 
laughed at by well-dressed boys for driving the cow. While enduring 
ridicule from the boys, from what source could he derive any com- 
fort? 

2. Hartly persevered day after day in his acts of kindness and 
self-denial, without complaining of the ill-treatment he received. 
Why did he not resent some of these insults, or, at least, complain 
of them ? 

3. If Jemson, or either of the boys who laughed at his unkind ex- 
pressions, had received the same treatment which they gave, what 
would you have expected from them ? 

4. Have you ever known any instances where the love of doing 
good and the consciousness of doing right, were sufficient to over- 
come all fear of opposition or ridicule ? — and sufficient, also, to over- 
come all inclination to resentment ? 

5. What virtues would Jemson have needed, in order that he 
might have conducted himself as nobly as Hartly ? 

6. When Hartly came into the school, a plain boy, and plainly 
dressed, how ought the other boys to have treated him? While 
Hartly "suffered wrong" from the other boys, what real injury did 
he receive ? What injury did they receive ? 

7. What advantages did Hartly derive from "suffering wrong?" 

8. If others had never known from what motives Hartly acted in 
assisting the poor woman, in what respect would he still have derived 
advantage from suffering wrongfully ? 

9. It was a matter of exultation with Jemson to inquire " after 
the health of Hartly's cow. 'J Whose cause for exultation was finally 
the greater ? In the case of all Avho do wrong, and all who suffer 
wrong, whose situation will always be preferable ? 



EXTRACT. 

A Bargain's a Bargain. — So it is; but it is a bud bar- 
gain for bim who bargains unfairly, let him make what he 
will by it. A man goes out to buy a horse. He finds one 
that he likes, and that the owner wants to sell ; but he is 



SUBMISSION TO WKONG. 221 

determined, if possible, to get him for less than he is worth. 
Accordingly he sets himself to depreciate the animal, by 
pointing out what he calls its defects and blemishes. ''I like 
your horse in some respects, but he is too old. The man you 
bought him of must have deceived you. He called him eight, 
you say. I think the horse nearer twelve. See him, how 
his teeth are worn down. I can't afford to give you anything 
like your price ; besides, his pace is slow and heavy, and he 
trips, I see, as if he had been foundered. He is raw-boned, 
too, and carries his head badly, and is too hard upon the bit, 
and I don't like the color. If he was a bright bay, I would 
give you a good deal more- for him.'' Thus lie cheapens the 
animal as much below his real worth as he can, and when he 
has got so far away that he thinks the owner will not hear 
of it, boasts what a good bargain he has made. " I would 
not sell the animal for twice the money. He is of the right 
age, and just what I want." ^'But then you must have 
cheated the man you bought him of" ^'0 no, a bargain's 
a bargain," That will be a hard-backed horse for an honest 
man to ride. 

Another wants to buy a house, and adopts a similar course 
to get it for less than it is worth. ^' I don't like the location," 
he says, " it is too far from church. The ground is too low. 
It stands too near the street, and is on the wrong side of the 
way. It is badly planned ; the rooms are too small or too 
large. The hall is too wide, or not wide enough. The 
kitchen is inconvenient. There is no china-closet. It is 
slightly built, and must have a great many repairs, &c., &c. 
What do you ask for it?" " Two thousand dollars." '^ Two 
thousand dollars ! Then there is no use in saying any more 
about it. I can buy a better place for a great deal less money. 
" Well, what will you give ?" " Fifteen hundred -, and that 
is, I consider, more than it is worth." The seller knows it 
is cheap at two thousand, and so does the buyer. But he 
cannot afford to keep it. He must take what he can get, and 
19* 



222 SUBMISSION TO WRONG. 

the writings are drawn. Ask the buyer what he will take for 
his new purchase and his lowest price is twentj-five hundred 
dollars. Now all at once (he will assure you, with an unblush- 
ing face,) the location is good ', the place is convenient ; it 
was well built, and it will cost but little to put it in com- 
plete repair. It is a very good house. He cheated the seller 
by crying it down, and he knew it at the time. But " a bar- 
gain's a bargain,'' and every one must look out for himself. 

So true is the saying of the wise man, ^' It is nought, it is 
nought, saith the buyer; but when he is gone his way, then 
he boasteth." 



10. If a person should, knowingly, sell you a horse for twenty-five 
dollars more than he is worth, which would be the greater sufferer, 
yourself, or the person who should sell you the horse ? In what way 
would you be the sufferer ? In what way would the seller of the 
horse be the sufferer ? Whose sufferings would last the longer ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Why cannot all people suffer wrong voluntarily, and even cheer- 
fully, when good may thereby be done to others ? 

2. What particular virtues are necessary to enable persons to suffer 
injuries without resenting them, or even feeling resentment ? 

3. If persons of little self-control, and little moral courage, receive 
injuries, what conduct may we expect from them ? 

4. If a person who cares little for doing good to others, receives 
injuries, what may we expect from him in return for wrongs ? 

5. What advantage may there be to any one, to suffer wrong 
cheerfully ? — What advantage if the wrong is not suffered cheerfully ? 

6. When we suffer wrong from high and pure motives, how will 
our example affect others around us ? 

7. What advantage is there ever in doing wrong ? If we do wrong, 
how will our example affect others aroiind us? 

8. Persons sometimes seek to take advantage of others in making 
bargains, >yiaQ is the greater losfr when they are unfairly made ? 



IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 223 

9. If others injure your feelings or your reputation, by saying to 
you, or about you, what is not true, in what way will you be the 
sufferer ? — in what way will the slanderer be the sufferer ? 

10. How great wrongs do you think it possible for any one to 
suffer from others, without feeling resentment for the wrong done ? 

11. How great wrongs do you think it possible for any one to be 
willing to suffer for the sake of doing good to others ? 

12. Which do you think is the more difficult, to labor and contend 
for the right, or to suffer patiently for the right ? "^Vhich is nobler ? 



LESSON XXVIII. 



IT IS MORE BLESSED TO GIVE THAN TO RECEIVE. 
NARRATIVE. 

Benevolence its own Reward. — Our readers know 
that on the evening of July 13th, 1846, a fire broke out in the 
town of Nantucket, which is on the beautiful Island of Nan- 
tucket, outside of our harbor, by which hundreds of thousands 
of dollars worth of property were destroyed, and a great raany 
families reduced at once to penury. 

The sympathies of the kind people of Boston were imme- 
diately enlisted in behalf of the sufferers. A public meeting 
was called, and the proper measures were taken to appeal 
individually, and go from house to house, for aid. Oue of 
the committee who is actively engaged in making collections, 
told me yesterday a delightful little anecdote, which I cannot 
withhold from my readers. He said, he went into a black- 
smith's shop, where he scarcely expected to get anything, as 
matters looked unpromising. Several men were at work, and 



224 IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 

he made known bis errand. They all held down their heads, 
continuing at their work, and making no reply. At length 
he inquired of them which was the principal, and they pointed 
out to him one of their number, a bard-featured, elderly 
looking man, and to him the gentleman made a direct appeal. 
'^ Well,'^ said the blacksmith, putting down on end his pon- 
derous sledge-hammer, "well, I am a poor man and can't do 
muchj but here's a dollar.'^ My friend thankfully took tho 
dollar, expressed his acknowledgment for the charity, and 
went on. Some hours after, having finished his round, in 
returning he passed by the same shop, and when opposite to 
it, was met with a warm grasp of the hand from the good 
blacksmith, who had run out to meet him : " Sir ! I thank you 
for calling on me this morning, and giving me an opportunity 
to do something for those who are worse off than myself. 
Before you came in I was thinking of my troubles, and was 
low-spirited and unhappy all the morning ; but since you gave 
me the opportunity of helping others a little, I have been 
cheerful and contented. You have taken a load off my heart, 
and I thank you for it a thousand times." Dear readers, is 
not benevolence (springing from right motives) its own ex- 
ceeding reward ? Go ! all of you, and do likewise. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. Perhaps the blacksmith, spoken of in the preceding narrative, 
earned three dollars during the day on which he gave away one to 
help the needy. If so, which probably gave him the greater plea- 
sure, to get three dollars, or give away one, as he did ? 

2. Why did the blacksmith feel so cheerful, after giving his dollar ? 

3. Perhaps many rich men of Boston and vicinity, gave fifty dollars 
each to aid the Nantucket sufferers. If so, which do you think was 
probably the happier, the blacksmith who gave the dollar, or the 
rich man who gave fifty ? 



IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 225 

4. Wliicli -was probably tlie liappier, the person in Nantucket who 
might happen to receive the blacksmith's dollar, or the blacksmith 
who gave it? 

5. There were other men at work in the blacksmith's shop, who 
"held down their heads" when the committee-man made known his 
business. What advice could you give such men ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Knife-Grinder. — The grinders of Paris, though 
not extinct, have considerably diminished in number. They 
have been driven to adopt some other occupation, in conse- 
quence of the cutlers appointing each a certain day in the 
week for grinding — notifying the same by a placard in their 
shop-windows. Any of my readers who search the municipal 
archives of Paris, will find a little history concerning one 
of them who had driven his grindstone through the streets 
and suburbs of the city for more than fifteen years ; which I 
see no reason why I should not reproduce here. It runs to 
the following effect : 

Antoine Bonafoux was a grinder, living frugally upon the 
produce of his precarious industry. Upon the same lofty 
floor of the house in which he lodged, dwelt a poor widow, 
named Drouillant, who had once seen better days. The 
death of her husband had deprived her of her resources, and 
driven her to a garret, where, with an only child — a boy too 
young to labor — she worked early and late with her needle 
for the means of subsistence. Bonafoux, whose instinct had 
led him to comprehend and sympathize with her misfortunes, 
if he passed her on the stairs, would manifest his respect by a 
low bow, and his sympathy by a courteous inquiry after her 
little boy; though he sought no further acquaintance. But 
the widow grew too feeble to work, and seeing her suffering 
from want, he called on her one morning and insisted on her 
borrowing a portion of his savings, alleging that he had a 



226 IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 

sum in the bank, and that he could well spare it. The brave 
fellow knew well enough that he was depositing his earnings 
in a sinking-fund; but it was not for him to stand by a poor 
lady and a mother pining for assistance which he could render. 
So she became his pensioner, with the understanding that she 
was to repay him when she could. Suddenly, during the 
absence of the grinder, a stroke of apoplexy prostrated the 
poor widow. The whole house was in alarm ; the doctor was 
sent for, and as soon as he had administered to her present 
wants, arrangements were made for carrying her to the 
hospital — that ante-chamber of the tomb of the unfortunate 
poor of Paris. At this moment Bonafoux came in. " Stop,'' 
said he, " that lady must not go to the hospital ; I know her 
better than you do : it would kill her to take her there. 
Doctor, attend her here, and do your utmost ; I will defray 
your charges." The poor lady recovered slowly under the 
nursing which the grinder procured her, but she was never 
able to resume her needle-work. Bonafoux supplied all her 
wants. When her boy grew old enough, this benevolent man 
apprenticed him to a stove-maker, and cut up his own garments 
to provide him with an outfit. A second attack of apoplexy 
deprived the poor mother of the use of her limbs. 

The grinder continued his benefactions to the last hour of 
her life — not relaxing his guardianship of her son until he 
was able to earn his own maintenance. It was for this act of 
truly Christian charity, extending over a long period, that the 
French Academy, in 1821, awarded to Antoine Bonafoux a 
gold medal and a prize of 400 francs. The historian who 
records the deed, declares that the grinder was worthy of the 
honor, and in addition to that, that he merited the esteem of 
all good men; a judgment in which the reader will probably 
concur. 



BBtf 



IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 227 

6. What do you discover in the character of the knife-grinder that 
you approve ? What appeared to be his motive in helping this poor 
•woman ? 

7. What reward did this man receive, besides the gold medal and 
the francs from the French Academy ? 

8. ^\1iich, probably, gave the knife-grinder the more pleasure, to 
get his money, by his labor, or to bestow it upon the poor woman 
and her son ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Power of Love. — The dungeon and the scourge 
were formerly considered the only effectual way of restraining 
maniacs, but experience has proved that love is the best 
controlling power. When Pinel, the humane French 
physician, proposed to try this experiment in the Bedlam at 
Bicetre, many supposed that his life would fall a sacrifice. 
But he walked fearlessly into dungeons where raving maniacs 
had been chained, — some ten years, some forty years ; and 
with gentle words, he convinced them that they were free to 
go out into the sunshine and open air, if they would allow 
him to remove their galling chains and put on their strait- 
waistcoats. At first they did not believe it, because they 
had been so often deceived. When they found it true, 
nothing could equal their gratitude and joy. They obeyed 
their deliverer with the utmost docility^ and finally became 
willing and valuable assistants in the management of the 
establishment. 

Dorothea L. Dis, our American Mrs. Fry, the God- 
appointed missionary to prisons and alms-houses, said that 
experience had more than confirmed her faith in the power of 
kindness over the insane and vicious. 

Among the hundreds of crazy people, with whom her 
sacred mission has brought her into companionship, she has 
not found one individual, however fierce and turbulent, that 
could not be calmed by Scripture and priiyer, uttered in low 



228 IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 

and gentle tones. The power of religious sentiment over 
these shattered souls, seems perfectly miraculous. The wor- 
ship of a quiet, loving heart, aJBfects them like a voice from 
Heaven. Tearing and rending, yelling and stamping, singing 
and groaning, gradually subside into silence, and they fall 
upon their knees, or gaze upward with clasped hands, as if 
they saw through the opening darkness a golden gleam from 
their Father's throne of love. 

On one occasion, this missionary of mercy was very ear- 
nestly cautioned not to approach a raving maniac. He yelled 
frightfully, day and night, rent Jiis garments, plucked out his 
hair, and was so violent, that it was supposed he would murder 
any one who ventured within his reach. Miss Dix seated 
herself at a little distance, and without appearing to notice 
him, began to read, with serene countenance and gentle voice, 
certain passages of Scripture, filled with the spirit of tender- 
ness. His shouts gradually subsided, until at last he became 
perfectly still. When she paused, he said meekly, '^ Read 
me some more, it does me good." And when, after a pro- 
longed season of worship, she said, ^'I must go away now,'' 
he eagerly replied, '' No, you cannot go. God sent you to me, 
aod you must not go." By kind words, and a promise to 
come again, she finally obtained permission to depart. 
" Give me your hand," said he. She gave it, and smiled 
upon him. The wild expression of his haggard countenance 
softened to tearfulness, as he said, " You treat me right, God 
sent you." 

On another occasion, she had been leading some twenty 
or thirty maniacs into worship, and seeing them all quiet as 
lambs gathered into the Shepherd's fold, prepared to go forth 
to other duties. In leaving the room, she passed an insane 
young man, with whom she had had several interviews. He 
stood with hands clasped, and a countenance of the deepest 
leveiviice. With a friendly smile she said, "Henry, are 
you well; to-day ?" " Hush ! — hush !" replied he, sinking 



IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 229 

his voice to a whisper, and gazing earnestly on the space 
around her, "hush! — there are angels with you! They 
have given you their voice/' 



9. Wliat other methods of doing good are there, besides doing good 
with money ? 

10. In what way can any one do the greatest amount of good ? 

11. Why was Miss Dix able to control the raving maniac, when 
others could not ? 

12. Could any and every person control raving maniacs, as the 
French physician, Pinel, did ? 

13. Why did the maniacs in the mad-house at Bicetre, obey Pinel 
when others could not control them ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Have you ever made presents to your friends ? Have you ever 
received gifts from your friends or from others ? In which case were 
you the happier ? 

2. When persons aid the unfortunate, which are the happier, 
usually ; those who assist, or those who are assisted ? 

3. Which person enjoys the greater happiness, the one who gives 
without making any sacrifice himself, or the one who gives what he 
very much needs himself? 

4. If you could have yovir choice, which would you prefer, the 
highest public station in the State, or the means to give to every one 
that was needy, just as much as you pleased ? 

5. Which woiild you prefer, the ability to make the deaf, the blind, 
or insane persons happy, or plenty of money to help those who need 
food or clothing? 

6. Many public stations are considered very honorable. What 
station in life do you think the noblest ? 

7. How must a person feel who is constantly laboring to make 
other persons happy ? — to make the unfortunate happy ? 

20 



230 IT IS GOOD TO GIVE. 

8. What virtues must one possess wlio is willing to do all in his 
power to promote the happiness of othei-s ? 

9. In giving to others, which is the higher motive, to give to make 
the unfortunate happy, or to give to make ourselves happy ? 

10. If we give to others simply because it bi'ings happiness to 
ourselves to do so, what other reward ought we ever to receive ? 

11. But if, in aiding others, we forget ourselves, and labor singly 
to do good to those who need our help, what reward may we here- 
after receive ? 

12. If the rewards to those who give from the highest motives are 
gi-eatest, why do not all persons give more readily ? 



GIVING. 

The sun gives everj so the earth — 
What it can give, so much 'tis worth; 
The ocean gives in many ways — 
Gives paths, gives fishes, rivers, bays : 
So, too, the air, it gives us breath — 
When it stops giving, comes in death. 

Give, give, be always giving; 

Who gives not, is not living. 
The more you give, 
The more you live. 

God's love hath in us wealth unheap'd; 

Only by giving is it reap'd — 

The body withers, and the mind, 

If pent in by a selfish rind. 

Give strength, give thought, give deed, give pelf, 

Give love, give tears, and give thyself. 

Give, give, be always giving, 

Who gives not, is not living. 

The more we give, \ 

The more we live. 1 



LESSON XXIX. 



THINK NO THOUGHTS THAT YOU WOULD BLUSH TO 
EXPRESS IN WORDS. 



EXTRACT. 

A Bad Taint. — " What you learn from bad habits and in 
bad society," says Mr. Gough, " you will never forget, and 
it will be a lasting pang to you. I tell you in all sincerity, 
and not as in the excitement of a speech, but as I would 
confess, and have confessed before God, I would give my 
right hand to-night if I could forget that which I have learn- 
ed in evil society — if I could tear from my memory the 
scenes which I have witnessed, and the transactions which 
have taken place before me. You cannot take away the 
effect of a single impure thought that has lodged and 
harbored in the heart. You may pray against it, and, by 
God's grace, conquer it; but it will always be a thorn in the 
flesh to you, and will cause you bitterness and anguish." 



QUESTIONS EOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. If we learn bad habits in evil society, wbat will be the effect 
upon our future improYement ? 

2. How long will the effect of bad habits and impure thoughts, 
last? 

3. What other methods are there of acquiring bad habits besides 
associating with bad company ? 



(231) 



232 THINK NO UNWORTHY THOUGHTS. 

EXTRACT. 

"It Costs Too Much."— That little theft costs too much. 
It is only a shilling, I know ; and perhaps it would never be 
missed : but it will cost you as much as a fortune is worth. 
"I did not take the shilling/' you say. lam glad of it. 
But I am afraid you will take it, nevertheless. You have 
been looking at it, with a wishful eye, for some minutes. 
You have been tr^^ing to settle the question whether you 
would be found out or not, if you put the money into your 
pocket. You have been using all sorts of flimsy arguments 
to your conscience, to drown its voice. You said it was only 
a shilling, and nobody would be any the worse for your taking 
so small a sum. You talked about your salary being so 
small, and your employer being so rich ; and you thought you 
would refund the money, interest and all, when you got to be 
rich yourself I know you did not take the money. But 
while you were gazing into that drawer and thinking what 
yoa should do about that shilling, you were standing on a 
fearful precipice. Many a youth has yielded to the tempter, 
as you were on the point of yielding, and thus entered on a 
career of crime which proved his ruin. It was a little, 
petty theft, that first one ; but it cost him dearly. It will cost 
you dearly, my friend. It may cost you everything worth 
living for. 

If, then, you really do not mean to steal, stop thinking 
about it. Your conscience has once faithfully and solemnly 
told you that it is wrong to steal. Therefore, put away from 
your thoughts, instantly, every idea of the possibility of doing 
what you know to be wrong. 

So of other forbidden things, no one becomes a bad man 
at once. The mind must first be corrupted. The evil sug- 
gestion must first be indulged, then revolved in the thoughts, 
until it loses its hideous deformity, and the anticipated gain 
or pleasure comes to outweigh the evils of the transgressions. 



THINK NO UNWORTHY THOUGHTS. 233 

The pleasurable contemplation of a siuful deed is usually fol- 
lowed by its commission. 

Therefore, never allow yourself to pause and consider the 
pleasure or the profit of anything that is not good and right. 
Close your mind against the first evil suggestion, as you 
would lock and bolt your doors against a robber. Never, for 
an instant, dwell upon forbidden subjects or impure pleasure. 
Meet your enemy at the threshold, and drive him from your 
heart. Avoid the society where obscenity and blasphemy are 
heard. Read nothing that is unchaste or immoral. Keep 
your spirit untainted, your thoughts undefiled, your imagina- 
tion unpolluted, so shall your life be virtuous and yourself 
happy. Take care of the thoughts, and the actions will take 
care of themselves. 



4, In -wliat maimer does the mind and heart of any one become 
prepared to do what is wrong ? 

5. After a person has once learned to think favorably of stealing, 
what effect would you expect such thoughts to have upon his actions ? 



EXTRACT. 



A Neglected Scratch. — An Indiana clergyman lately 
told a story about a man with whom he boarded when a col- 
lege boy. The man was at his work one frosty morning, and 
happened to get a slight scratch on the back of his hand. A 
single minute's attention to it would have caused it to heal 
in a day or two. It was neglected. A slight inflammation 
appeared, which a simple poultice would have reduced; but 
it was neglected. The whole hand became inflamed, and 
should have had the best medical attention, but it was 
neglected. The arm and shoulder and back were seized with 
pain, and now all was alarm and confusion. Three physi- 
cians were in attendance to consult upon the case. The 
20* 



234 THINK NO UNWOETHY THOUGHTS. 

question was, whether cutting off the limb would save the 
man's life, and it was decided to be too late ! The disease 
had gained a mortal hold, and no human skill could arrest it. 
A vicious habit — an indulged little sin — a neglected duty — 
how easily they are taken care of, if we are in season with 
them, but how stubborn and ruinous they become, if they 
are let alone ! And the way to commence with all those 
habits and indulgences which degrade either children or men, 
is to banish everything that is wrong, at once, and for ever 
from the thoughts. 



6. In the foregoing case, it was considered impossible to cure the 
body that was first injured by a little scratch. What can be done to 
cure, entirely, a mind and heart that have become tainted by a little 
inward impurity ? 

7. What can be done to prevent impure thoughts ? 



EXTRACT. 

Guard against Vulgarity. — We especially commend 
the following extract to the thoughtful study of the young. 
Nothing is so repugnant and disgusting to the feelings of the 
noble and the good, as to hear the young, (or even the old) 
use profane, or low, vulgar language. The young of our cities 
are particularly guilty of profanity. In our day, too often, 
the '' boy" does not feel himself a " man '^ unless he can excel 
in the use of very improper modes of expression. 

" We would guard the young against the use of every word 
that is not perfectly proper. Use no profane expressions — 
allude to no sentiments that will put to blush the most sensi- 
tive. You know not the tendency of habitually using in- 
decent and profane language. It may never be obliterated 
from your heart. When you grow up, you will find at your 
tongue's end some expression which you would blush to 
utter. It was one learned when you were quite young. By 



THINK NO UNWORTHY THOUGHTS. 235 

being careful, you will save yourself a great deal of mortifica- 
tion and sorrow. Good men have been taken sick, and become 
delirious. In these moments they have used the most vile 
and indecent language imaginable. When informed of it, 
after restoration to health, they had no idea of the pain they 
had given their friends, and stated that they had learned and 
repeated the expressions in childhood, and though years had 
passed since they had spoken a bad word, these early corrup- 
tions had been indelibly stamped upon the heart. Think of 
this, ye who are tempted to use improper language, and never 
disgrace yourselves.^' 



8. Is there any danger that persons who never think improper 
thoughts, will give utterance to improper words, either in sickness or 
health ? 

9. What other reasons are there, besides the fear of causing pain, 
either to ourselves or to our friends, why we should refrain from the 
use of all profane or improper expressions ? 



EXTRACT. 

The Pure in Heart. — A gentleman, in one of his visits 
among the poor, met with one of his scholars, a little girl not 
six years old, who had just begun to read the New Testament. 
This child, being fond of singing, was anxious to possess one 
of the school hymn-books, which the gentleman kindly pro- 
mised to give her, on condition that she would learn to read 
the fifth and sixth chapters of St, Matthew's Gospel within 
the space of a fortnight. The little girl immediately under- 
took this task, and having brought her two chapters to the 
gentleman, began to read; but when she finished the first 
twelve verses, he caused her to stop in order to inquire of her 
which of the qualities described in the beatitudes she would 
desire most to possess. She paused a little while, and then 
replied, with a modest smile, "I would rather be pure in 
heart.'' 



236 THINK NO UNWORTHY THOUGHTS. 

The gentlemaD asked her wherefore she would choose this 
blessed quality above all the rest. In reply to which, she 
answered to this purpose : " Sir, if I had a pure heart, I 
should then possess all the other qualities spoken of in this 
chapter." 



10. When our intentions are ptire and right, what will onr con- 
duct be ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL RETIEW. 

1. If a person should never indulge in wrong thoughts, what would 
you expect to see wrong in his actions ? 

2. Which come first in order, bad thoughts or bad deeds ? 

3. If wrong or improper thoughts come into your mind, what are 
you to do ? 

4. If you read an interesting story, can you give your whole 
attention to the narrative while reading it ? 

5. If you are called upon to attend to some other duty or avocation 
when busily engaged in reading, can you stop thinking of your read- 
ing, and attend to the duty or business ? 

6. Can you stop thinking of your amusements, and attend to your 
lessons, when you try to do so ? Can you at any time think of par- 
ticular persons or places, or subjects, when you are very anxious to 
do so ? Can you stop thinking upon one subject, and think of another, 
if you try to do so ? 

7. If you find it possible to control your thoughts, at some times, 
why can you not at all times ? 

8. If it should come into your mind to tell a lie, to save yourself 
from censure or punishment, what ought you to do ? 

9. If, after receiving an injuiy, you should, for an instant, think 
of revenge, what ought you to do ? 

10. Some persons say that they cannot control their thoughts. Is 
it, or is it not possible for us to banish evil thoughts from our 
minds ? 



LIVE INNOCENTLY. 237 

11. Whicli would you tMnk would be more successful in banishing 
evil suggestions, the person that was very anxious to do right, or the 
person who felt quite indifferent about doing so ? Which of the two 
would have the greater number of evil thoughts to drive away ? 

12. If a person loved to do right, above every thing else, how long 
would he cherish revengeful feelings? How long would he think 
over a plan for stealing money ? 

13. What harm is there in thinking upon forbidden things, if you 
do not really intend to do anything wrong ? 

14. But if, after thinking long and favorably upon stealing, or 
lying, or revenge, or vulgarity, we should still never do any of these 
MTong acts, in what way should we be injm-ed ? 

15. Where do all things that make persons criminal, degraded and 
brutish, originate ; in the thoughts, or in the conduct ? 

16. Which would you think the more to be dreaded, a countenance 
covered with scars and blemishes, caused by accident, or a mind and 
heart that has b^n scarred and deformed by cherishing impure 
thoughts, and yielding to evil suggest" ins ? 



LESSON XXX. 



LIVE INNOCENTLY, IF YOU WOULD LIVE HAPPILY. 
NARRATIVE. 

The Hard Snow-Ball. — When I was about ten years 
old, and my brother eight, we were returning from school, 
the snow was melting under a warm March sun, and I felt an 
irrepressible desire to enter the list with some one for snow- 
balling. We were away from our school-mates ; and making a 
very hard ball, I threw it with all my might at my brother. 
It struck him with great violence in the side, and to this 
moment I seem to see him writhing from the pain it gave him, 
and hear the bitter cry occasioned by my cruel deed. In my 



238 LIVE INNOCENTLY. 

sport I had sadlj hurt that dear brother, whom I ought to 
have loved and protected. A passing traveller frowned upon 
me for my cruelty, and I knew that the piercing eye of God 
was upon me. That dear brother made no complaint of me 
to our parents : and neither to them nor to my Heavenly 
Father would my proud heart allow me to make confession. 
Why did I not do it ? I knew I had done wrong ; why not 
confess my fault to God, and receive the peace and joy of 
forgiven sin ? 

When another winter came, my little brother could not 
join me in our accustomed spor-ts, he had such a weakness 
in his back. As the flowers of May appeared, he grew more 
pallid j he languished through the summer and autumn; and 
in the darkness of a December night, we were summoned to 
see him die. A father's ear caught the Jast faint whisper 
from his lips : '' Tell my brothers that they must pray.'' 

Now I wear the silver hair of age ; but as often as I visit 
the mound of my little brother's grave, this heart yearns 
with tenderest grief, my tears unbidden flow, in sad remem- 
brance of that one unkind, unfeeling act that caused his cry 
of distress, and that may have been the means of his early 
death. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. AVhy did the man, in the last narrative, feel sorroTrfal through 
his life-time when he thought of his younger brother ? 

2. After he was sensible the snow-ball had injured his younger 
brother, what was then liis duty ? — and if he had then done his 
duty well, in what manner might the sorrows of his life have been 
lightened ? 

3. In what way might his yoxing brother's life have been prolonged, 
if the cause of his weakness had been known ? 



LIVE INNOCENTLY. 239 



NARRATIVE. 

Who can bear a Guilty Conscience ? — When I was a 
child, I was invited to spend an evening with a companion of 
mine who lived about a quarter of a mile from my father's 
house. It was autumn. The leaves had fallen from the 
trees. The birds had departed. The cold winds had begun 
to blow, and the ground was whitened with frost. 

My mother gave her consent, but little did she think of the 
temptation to which her child would be exposed. I went, 
and found I was to pass the evening with other children of 
the village. There were gathered the wealthy and the poor, 
but I was poorest of them all. I was clothed in my best 
attire, but it was thin and scanty for the season. I looked 
upon my companions : they were well and comfortably dressed. 
I told my sorrows to no one, but grieved at my lot, until 
envy, cruel envy, arose in my bosom and destroyed all my 
peace. It was soon proposed by one of the company that we 
should play blind-man's-buff, and by another that we should 
take off our shoes to prevent the noise it would occasion. All 
but myself commenced doing this, and ran to put them to- 
gether in one corner of the room. I had none to take off. 
I had none to wear. Indeed, I expected to go to school many 
days with cold feet, and when the snow came to stay at home, 
which to me would be a greater grief than the former. The 
play was soon ended, and as the evening was very fine, it was 
proposed to walk in the garden. Every one ran for their 
shoes. I had thought too long and too deeply about them. 
I ran with the group, and selected a pair belonging to a boy 
of about mv own ao-e and size, and was amoncr the first that 
entered the garden, leaving the boy making many inquiries 
for his shoes. 

When we returned, I did not take them into the house 
with me, but placed them where I could conveniently take 



240 LIVE INNOCENTLY. 

them when we went home, for I had determined upon keeping 
them. It was my first attempt to take that which did not 
belong to me. The sports of the evening were soon ended, 
and we prepared to return to our homes. I made great haste, 
and bidding the company good night, was the first ta leave 
the house. Glad should I have been if the darkness of the 
night had surrounded me, but to me it appeared that the 
moon never shone with more brilliancy, or the stars shed more 
lustre. Notwithstanding this, I seized the shoes and hurried 
home. Conscience however had not ceased to upbraid me 
since the first moments of my wrong, and as I walked home 
it was my only companion. 

At length I arrived at the door, but was afraid to go in. I 
dreaded to meet my parents, for I felt that they knew all that 
I had done, and they had taught me the command, *^ Thou 
shalt not steal.'' I bid the shoes, and summoned courage to 
^0 in. How awful it is to fear to meet our dearest friends ! 
Their kindness seemed reproof, and their smiles at that time 
worse than frowns. 

It being late, I soon retired with my brothers, to our 
chamber, but not to sleep. Very soon all around me was 
silent; nothing was heard but the breath of innocency sleep- 
ing by my side. But oh, the wretched condition of my mind. 
I felt I had justly deserved the displeasure of my parents, for 
I had disobeyed their commands, and if theirs, how much more 
had I disobeyed God's. Ever before, I had considered him 
as a lovely being, but now I felt I had provoked his anger. 
He had fixed the bounds of my habitation, but I wished to 
be the disposer of my own fortune. I knew he had witnessed 
the whole transaction, and that his All-seeing eye was every 
moment upon me. Had it been possible, how gladly would I 
have hid myself from him ! I reflected upon my crime until 
it appeared so great, that every moment I expected the anger 
of the Lord would burst upon me. My head was pained, my 
limbs trembled. 



LIVE INNOCENTLY. 241 

At length I resolved to arise and go, even at midnight, and 
return the shoes to the house from which I had taken them. 
I was about leaving my room, when I looked upon the 
countenances of those who were free from the enormous 
crime of which I was guilty, and consequently were sleepino; 
sweetly, and knew nothing of my sorrows. Gladly would I 
have awakened one to accompany me; but no, I must go 
alone. I passed easily down the stairs, and again found my- 
self encompassed with difficulty. I could not go out without 
passing through my mother's room, and if I awoke her, she 
would, of course, be solicitous to know the reason of my 
leaving my chamber. But I was determined I would go, and 
if she awoke I would tell her all. I succeeded in passing out 
without waking her, and taking the shoes, hurried half-way 
to the house where I had passed the evening, and left them 
a short distance from each other in the road, and again re- 
turned to my chamber, and laid ray head upon my pillow: 
but my mind was not relieved, and, compelled by conscience, 
I again rose, returned to the spot where I had left them, and 
with a trembling heart went quite to the house, and placed 
them under the window near the door, and again returned to 
my bed. Being quite exhausted, I soon fell asleep. 

The next week I went, in company with some of my com- 
panions, on a nutting excursion. The boy whom I had 
wronged was one of the number. I need hardly say that I 
was happy when I saw the shoes I had coveted, upon his feet, 
although I was srill destitute. 

This incident has had a beneficial effect upon my life. Its 
influence is yet felt, although many years have passed since 
it occurred. Let it be a warning to all who may read it, to 
resist even the first approaches to evil, and they will avoid 
the misery of an upbraiding conscience, and the pain of self- 
reproach in after years. 
21 



242 LIVE INNOCENTLY. 

4. Why did tlie affectionate smiles of tlae boy's parents, in the last 
narrative, cause the boy to feel unhappy ? 

5. Why did he prefer to take so much pains in the lonely hours of 
the night, to return the shoes to the place where he found them ? 

6. Which did he probably find preferable, to be very poor and go 
barefoot in the cold and frost, or carry with him, constantly, a sense 
of guilt? 

7. If he had never returned the shoes, nor his guilt been known 
to others, how long would the pain of self-reproach have made him 
unhappy ? 

8. Why did the boy feel happy, afterwards, to see the shoes he had 
coveted on the feet of the owner ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Power of Conscience. — One evening, not long 
since, as I was sitting at the hour of twilight by a pleasant, 
bright fire, my little children gathered round me and began 
to beg, as they usually do at that hour, for a story. 

I had one ready for them, and told them of a little boy 
who, while throwing his ball in his mother's parlor, broke an 
elegant looking-glass. He knew that he deserved punish- 
ment, and would probably receive it, as he had often been told 
not to throw his ball in the house; and as he stood thinking 
what he should do, it occurred to him that as no one saw him 
throw the ball, no one need know that he broke the glass : so, 
when questioned upon the subject, he denied any knowledge 
of the manner in which the glass was broken, and when 
questioned a secDnd time, he denied again still more strongly. 

I then asked the children what would have been the right 
thing for the little boy to do. All but one answered, " He 
ought to have told the truth at once f but little Philip made 
no answer. ''What do you think, my boy?" I asked of 
Philip. Still no reply. I took no more notice of him then, 
but finished my story, and ended by enjoining it upon them 
to tell the truth at all times. " No matter what you have 



r 



LIVE INNOCENTLY. 243 

done," said I, " confess it at once ; and even if you are pun- 
ished, depend upon it you will be a great deal happier than 
if you were to bear about in your breast an unconfessed and 
unforgiven sin." 

I then had occasion to leave the room for some minutes, 
and when I came back, I found little Philip rolling about the 
floor as if in great agony, and sobbing as if his heart would 
break, and the children all came running to me, exclaiming, 
" Mother, what is the matter with Philly ? ho has been cry- 
ing so ever since you went out, and will not tell us what ails 
him." I said, ^' What is the matter, my son ?" No answer 
but sobs and tears. "Are you sick?" "No, mother." 
" Are you hurt ?" " No, mother." " Tell me what makes 
you cry, then " But he only rolled about on the floor, and 
cried the harder. 

At length he got up, and laying his head on my shoulder, 
with his hands before his face, while his tears fell over my 
dress, he said, sobbing and catching his breath between each 
syllable, " Mo — ther — I — would — tell — you — if — I — could I" 
I then took him into my own room, and said, " Come, my 
son, I cannot have this matter go on so any longer; you must 
tell mc what it is. If you have done anything wrongs tell 
me so at once." But he only sobbed out, " Oh, dear mother, 
I cannot do it I" 

I had never seen the child act so before, and began to be 
alarmed; so I took him on my lap, and told him that if he 
had done anything wrong, he would be much happier if he 
told it at once. " Don't you remember," said I, " When you 
got a splinter in your hand the other day, and you would not 
have it taken out because you thought it would pain you, how 
your hand festered and became very sore, and the longer the 
splinter was in your hand, the more sore it became, till at 
length you suffered so, that you determined you would have 
it out, and though it pained you more than if you had allowed 
me to take it out at first, yet in a moment you were relieved. 



244 LIVE INNOCENTLY. 

and free from pain ? Just so it is/' said I, '^ with the sin in 
your heart, Philip. There is something there rynklitig and 
fostering, and yet you have not the courage to draw it out ; 
it is harder, to do it now than it was at first, but it will be . 
still harder to-morrow than to-day. So speak up, my son, 
and tell mother what you have done. Have you broken any 
thing V " Ob, yes, mother." '^ Well, what was it V 

After some entreaty and a good .many more tears, the story 
at length came out. It was, that he had that day taken a 
tumbler to the pump, and accidentally broken it. No cue 
saw him break it, and as he ha'd been forbidden to tike a 
tumbler to the pump, he knew he deserved to be punished 
for disobedience ; so he determined to say nothing about it, 
and in the midst of his play had nearly forgotten it, until my 
Btory roused his slumbering conscience, and he began to see 
how wicked he had been. 



S). When -we accidentally injure articles of furaitiTre, at home or 
elsewhere, what i.s cur first duty ? 

10. In what respects was the boy who broke the tumbler, guilty ? 

11. What advantage is there in reporting the whole case our- 
selves, when we accidentally or carelessly injure property at home 
or elsewhere ? 

12. What advantage is there in reporting the whole case very 
promptly, when we have been in fault ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Persons sometimes suffer from jioverty and pain and other 
afflictions, and sometimes from a consciousness of guilt. Which is 
the harder to endure ? 

2. What happiness may still be enjoj^cd if you should lose an eye, or 
an arm ? 

8. What happiness may still be enjoyed by those who are very 
poor? 



LOVE OTHERS. 245 

4. What happiness is left to those who feel very conscious of 
guilt? 

5. Which would you prefer, an abundance of property not quite 
honestly obtained, or to be very poor, with the consciousness that 
you had never, in any manner, wronged another ? 

6. Children sometimes have privileges at home which they well 
know properly belong to a brother or sister. What disadvantage 
is there, in asking or accepting privileges which do not honestly be- 
long to us ? 

7. Scholars sometimes occupy a position in a school or class, 
which they know rightfully belongs to another. What losses are 
sustained in such cases ? 

8. Children are sometimes disobedient or unkind to parents. What 
effect will this have upon the happiness of children after they are 
separated from their parents ? 

9. Persons who have suffered severe injuries from others, often 
cherish revengeful feelings, for a long time. What effect has this upon 
the happiness of such individuals ? 

10. Persons sometimes omit to do an act of kindness to the unfor- 
tunate, when such an act is very much needed, and the opportunity 
to do this duty never again returns. How will this conscious 
neglect of duty affect the future happiness of such person ? 

11. What course of conduct would you recommend every one to 
pursue who desire to live most happily ? 



LESSON XXXI. 



WE MUST LEARN TO LOVE OTHERS AS WE LOVE 
OURSELVES. 

NARRATIVE. 

Moral Heroism op Quakers. — In referring to the 
immeasurable superiority of victories of peace over victories 
in war, Mr. Cobden makes the following striking allusion to 
the moral heroism of the English Quakers amid the Irish 
famine : 

21* 



246 LOVE OTHERS. 

" The famine fell upon nearly one half of a great nation. 
The whole world hastened to contribute money and food. 
But a few courageous men left their homes in Middlesex and 
Surrey, and penetrated to the remotest glens and bogs of the 
West coast of the stricken island, to administer relief with 
their own hands. They found themselves, not merely in the 
yalley of the shadow of death — that would be but an 
imperfect image — they were in the charnel-house of a na- 
tion. Never, since the eleventh century, did Pestilence, the 
gaunt handmaid of Famine, glean so rich a harvest. In the 
midst of a scene, which no field, of battle ever equalled in 
danger, in the number of its slain, or the physical sufferings 
of the living, the brave men walked as calm and unmoved as 
though they had been in their homes. The population sunk 
so fast that the living could not bury the dead ; half-interred 
bodies protruded from the gaping graves ; often the wife died 
in the midst of her starving children, while the husband lay 
a festering corpse by her side. Into the midst of these hor- 
rors did our heroes penetrate, dragging the dead from the 
living with their own hands, raising the heads of the famish- 
ing children, and pouring nourishment into parched lips, from 
which shot fever-flumes more deadly than a volley of musket- 
ry. Here was courage ! No music strung the nerves ; no 
smoke obscured the imminent danger; no thunder of artillery 
deadened the senses. It was cool self-possession and resolute 
will, calculated risk and heroic resignation. And who were 
these brave men ? To what " gallant ^' corps did they belong ? 
Were they of the horse, foot, or artillery force ? No ! They 
were Quakers from Clapham and Kingston ! If you would 
know what heroic actions they performed, you must inquire 
from those who witnessed them. You will not find them 
recorded in the volume of Reports published by themselves — 
for Quakers write no bulletin of their victories. 



LOVE OTHERS. 247 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1, What do you perceive in the conduct of the Quakers, in the 
last narratiye, that is unusual ? 

2. Which would jou think the position of greater danger, that of 
the soldier on the battle-field, or that of the Quakers in the midst" 
of the pestilence ? 

8. What motive induces the soldier to meet danger ? What motives 
induced these men of England to leave their homes and go to Ireland 
to help the sick and the dying ? 

4. Would the Quakers of Clapham and Kingston have probably 
labored any more faithfully and devotedly with their nearest relatives 
than they did with these strangers in Ireland ? 

5. If it was possible for these good men to feel such an interest in 
strangers, is it possible for others to do the same ? 

6. Have you ever known instances where persons have loved 
others so well that they have, voluntarily and intentionally, sacri- 
ficed their own lives, for the good of others, or to save the lives of 
others ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Filial Affection. — One incident of tliG disaster of the 
steamer Henry Clay, on the Hudson River, in 1852, discloses 
a rare and affecting magnanimity of soul. A mother and her 
daughter were clinging to each other when the ill-fated vessel 
struck the shore, they contemplated with dismay their slendei 
prospect of reaching land from the stern of the boat, which 
lay far out in the water. As the progress of the flames was 
driving them to the fatal leap from the wreck, a friend came 
, up and leaning over the daughter — as though to impart to 
the more youthful of the two, the small chance of life which 
remained — announced that he would do everything in his 
power to aid them, but that it was scarcely possible for bim 
to save more than one of the two. So startling and sad an 
announcement might well have thrown an ordinary mind into 
a state that would destroy the possibility of any calm and 



248 



LOVE OTHERS. 







rational action. A selfish person would have grasped at the 
possibility, thus afforded, of escape, forgetful of all, but the 
prospect of rescue. But the noble soul of which we write 
was neither overcome by the terror nor shaken by the tempt- 
ation of that trying hour. Her determination was instantly 
formed. She turned to her mother, and communicated the 
fact that only one of them could be saved, then giving ber 
one kiss of affection, and breathing one farewell word, before 
her intention could be divined, or her action anticipated, 
she plunged into the river; and thus she perished, resigning 
her chance of escape to the parent whom she loved better 
than life. 



LOVE OTHERS. 249 

Her remains were recovered from the water, and buried 
with becoming rites, and doubtless with most humane sym- 
pathy; but few knew, save the broken-hearted mother, what 
a strength of filial love had throbbed in that poor cold bosom 
while it lived, nor with what a generous devotion that faithful 
soul had perished at last. And did that soul really perish ? 
That mind, so calm, so prompt, so thoughtful, so superior to 
the direst emergency of human life, did it utterl}'' die ? Was 
it bidden, having reached such an ardor of self- forgetting 
affection, to be gone out of this universe utterly and for ever? 
Does nothing remain, when the blood ceases to course through 
the veins, of all the boundless wealth of thought and feeling 
which had till that moment quickened its current? While 
even the body retains its form and aspect — nay, may preserve 
for ages some semblance of what it was — does the soul for 
which it existed, and whose bidding it so long obeyed, 
instantly perish ? 



7. Did the daughter, in the foregoing narrative, love her mother 
as well as herself? — better than herself? 

8. While this mother and daughter were living together at home, 
how would you suppose the daughter treated the mother ? 

9. Who would, during the life-time of this daughter, most cheer- 
fully practise self-denial to promote this mother's happiness ? 

10. How would you expect such a daughter to treat poor, or un- 
fortunate persons ? 



NARRATIVE. 

The Unhappy Reply. — " I do not think it a selfish act 
if I occupy this whole scat myself, as I am to travel all this 
long day," said I to a lady nearest me, as I took the out-of- 
the-way end seat in the cars at Bufi"alo, for Albany, one 
sultry morning. 

'' Certainly not/' was the reply, as I put my shawl, books, 



250 LOVE OTHERS. 

papers, fan, bouquet, &c., in the one end, and nestled myself 
down on the other. I soon wearied of conversation and 
reading, and had sunk into a fitful slumber, when a gentle 
tap on my shoulder, and a " Please, miss," made me wake with 
a sudden start. 

The car was filled to overflowing, and a newly-arrived party 
had entered, and a pale little woman with a fretful baby in 
her arms, stood asking permission to sit beside me. With 
more of pity than of pleasure I shared my seat with her, yet 
I spoke but a few words, and sulkily forbore taking the rest- 
less little creature to ease her -poor wearied arms ; but I 
merely smoothed its yellow hair and its pale baby cheeks, and 
said, Mary was a good and sweet name. 

Por my own comfort, I had opened the window that I might 
more distinctly catch those picturesque views that flitted by 
so rapidly that they seemed like growing pictures, without 
one imperfection to mar, when my attention was drawn to my 
companion, who was incessantly coughing. 

"I do wish you would let down that window," said she; 
" that coal-smoke makes my cough so much worse." 

I am ashamed to confess it now, but I felt the angry blood 
burn in my cheek, and a flash of the eyes, as I replied, 

^'I am quite sick and wearied, and troubled, and hungry 
and thirsty, and crowded, and here you come as an intruder 
and keep from me the mite of cool, fresh air that I was try- 
ing to get. Do you think you are doing as you would be 
done by ?" said I, tartly ; and without waiting for a reply, I 
rose and was letting down the window with an angry crash, 
as a naughty child would slam a door to shut it, when she 
laid her poor wasted little hand on my arm, and said — 

"Oh, don't do it then I" and burst into tears, and leaned 
her head down on her baby, and wept bitterly. 

The woman in my heart was touched, but putting on the 
injured air of a martyr, I compressed my lips, and took up a 
paper, pretending to read. Pretty soon my eyes grew dimmed 



LOVE OTHERS. 251 

— I could not see without brushing the tears often, and I re- 
solved to ask pardon for my unkindness ; but minute after 
minute glided away, and we soon reached her place of desti- 
nation, and she rose to leave. I rose too, and the words were 
on my lips, when a gentleman came to assist her out. 

She turned her gentle, tearful eyes upon me with a sad 
expression, and bowed so sweetly that my hand was almost 
upraised for the forgiveness — the words were just dropping 
from my lips — but she was gone. It was too late ; and I, a 
woman, with a woman's heart, was left with that stinging 
wrong done, and the sweet words and wasted little hand that 
could remove it, were gone from me forever. I sank back in 
my seat, and wept bitterly. 

The gentleman returned from assisting her, and as the car 
was full, he occupied the place she had vacated, t inquired 
who the lady was, and he replied, 

" Her home is in Wisconsin, and she has now returned to 
the home of her childhood to die. The whole family of 
brothers and sisters have died of consumption, and she was 
the last one left, and is fast going too."' 

Oh ! I turned away sick at heart, and tried to shut out 
from remembrance that pallid, appealing face, as I resolved 
and re-resolved never again in this poor life of mine to speak 
an unkind word to a stranger. 



11. What do you perceive to approve in the conduct of the lady 
who first selected the end seat in the cars ? What do you observe 
that you do not approve ? 

12. If she could have travelled the next day with the same poor 
woman and child, how would she have probably treated her ? 

13. In what manner must we always treat others ? 

14. Is the reflection that we have treated others, particularly the 
sick or unfortunate, with imkindness, likely to cause us, in the future, 
many unpleasant reflections ? 



252 LOVE OTHERS. 



NARRATIVE. 

Self - Devotedness. — We know not when we have 
heard of a more striking iostance of self-sacrifice for the 
spiritual good of others, than one told by an English minis- 
ter. It is this : 

"The awful disease of leprosy still exists in Africa — 
Whether it be the same leprosy as that mentioned in the 
Bible, I do not know; but it is regarded as perfectly incura- 
ble, and so infectious that no one dares to come near the 
leper. In the south of Africa, there is a lazar-house for 
lepers. It is an immense space enclosed by a very high wall, 
containing fields which the leper cultivates. There is only 
one entrance, which is strictly guarded. Whenever any one 
is found with the marks of leprosy upon him, he is brought 
to this gate and obliged to enter in never to return. No one 
who goes in by that awful gate is ever allowed to come out 
again. 

" Within this abode of misery, there are multitudes of 
lepers in all stages of the disease. Dr. Halbeck, a missionary 
of the Church of England, from the top of a neighboring 
hill, saw them at work. He noticed two, particularly, 
sowing peas in the field. The one had no hands, the other 
had no feet, these members being wasted away by disease. 
The one who wanted the hands was carrying the other, who 
wanted the feet, upon his back ; and he again carried in his 
h;inds the bag of seed, and dropped a pea every now and then, 
which the other pressed into the ground with his foot, — and 
so they managed the work of one man between the two. 
Ah ! how little we know of the misery that is in the world ! 
Such is a prison-house of disease. 

" But you will ask, who cares for the souls of the hapless 
inmates? Who will venture to enter at that dreadful gate, 
never to return again? Who will forsake father and mo- 



LOVE OTHERS. 253 

ther, houses and land, to carry the message of a Savior to 
those poor lepers ? Two Moravian missionaries, impelled by 
a divine love for souls, have chosen the lazar- house as their 
field of labor. They entered it, never to come out again ; 
and I am told, that as soon as these die, other Moravians are 
quite ready to fill their place." 



15. WMch would jou tliink tlie greater sacrifice, to die suddenly 
by dro-wning, as did the daughter in a former narrative, or to live a 
few months, or a few years, of suffering and disease, entirely for the 
welfare of others, with the certainty of death at the end ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 



QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REYIEW. 

1. If your brother or near friend should be sick or unfortunate 
among strangers or in a foreign land, how would you like to have 
such a friend or brother treated ? 

2. If your friend should be sick among strangers who had learned 
" to love others as they loved themselves," how would you expect 
he would be treated ? 

3. If, by the most faithful attentions, and much self-denial, 
strangers should save the life of your father or brother, how would 
you feel towards them ? 

4. If sti'angers should manifest much kindness to your near 
friends who were travelling, how would you feel towards them ? 

5. Is it possible for others to treat strangers as if they were near 
friends ? Is it possible for you to do so ? 

6. What advantages would follow, if all persons tried "to love 
others as they love themselves ?" 

7. In what manner can we learn to love those around us whom we 
now regard with indifference ? 

8. How can we learn to love strangers ? How cau we learn to 
love our enemies ? 

9. Why do those who buy and sell, sometimes take advantage of 
each other ? Why do children sometimes quarrel with each other ? 



254 THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT. 

10. Why are so many laws, and rules of conduct, and punishments 
needed among men and children ? 

11. What single rule of conduct, if faithfully obeyed, would make 
every home happy, — every school happy, — every neighborhood 
happy ? 

12. Whose duty is it to obey the precept, "love others as you love 
yourself?" Who would be the happier, if they could be excused 
from obedience to this precept ? 

13. Is the man himself the more, or less happy, who loves his 
friends, loves strangers, and loves his enemies? 

14. Who is the happier for selfishness, and for feelings of indif- 
ference, coldness or hatred towards others ? 



LESSON XXXII. 



THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT* 



NARRATIVE. 

Thomas Wright. — Thomas Wright, of Manchester, is a 
great man. He is not a great statesman, like Daniel 
Webster; nor a great orator, like Henry Clay; nor a great 
general, like Lord Wellington ; nor a great philosopher, 
like Sir Isaac Newton. 

He is a very benevolent man, and yet not a rich man. 
Some people think that to be benevolent one must have a 
great deal of money to give away. But they forget that the 
most benevolent Being that ever walked upon our earth ^^ bad 
not where to lay his head.^' 

He is a very industrious and busy man. We have heard 
persons say, that they would like to be benevolent if they had 
time ; but this man worked hard all day long, and all the year 



THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT. 255' 

round^ kept the Lord's-day holy, and yet gave away a great 
deal to the poor and wretched, and helped a great many 
wicked men to find the way of peace and uprightness. 

He is a very humble man. His name was scarcely known, 
till a little while ago, beyond the foundry in which he worked, 
— certainly not beyond the city in which he lived. But he 
is now known as one of the most useful, active and benevolent 
men in the world. 

He lives in Manchester, England. He is now about sixty- 
three years of age, and has done an incalculable amount of 
good among prisoners, and especially among young offenders, 
who have been led away by idle habits and wicked associates, 
and have early become inmates of a prison-cell. 

Thomas Wright has been for forty-seven years a laborer in 
a large iron foundry, of which he is now the foreman. He 
begins his daily work at five o'clock in the morning, and closes 
at six in the evening; and for forty-seven years has worked 
twelve hours daily, to support himself and those depending 
on him. His life has been one of toil. But he had bread to 
earn, and he knew he had need to work for it; he did work 
with great zeal and great efficiency, obtaining the high res- 
pect and confidence of his employers. A man so laboring, 
might be entitled to go to bed betimes, and rest between 
these days of industry and natural fatigue. What could he 
do, in the little leisure left by so much unremitting work ? 
Poor as he was, toiling as he did, a modest man of humble 
origin, with no power in the world to aid him but the wonder- 
ful spiritual power of an earnest will — Thomas Wright had 
found means, in his little intervals of leisure, to lead back, 
with a gentle hand, three hundred convicted criminals to vir- 
tue ; to wipe the blot from their names and the blight from 
their prospects ; to place them in happy homes, and aid them 
to obtain an honest livelihood. 

Fourteen years ago, Mr. Wright visited, one Sunday, the 
New Bailey Prison^ at Manchester, and took an earnest inte- 



256 THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT. 

rest in what he saw. He knew that, with the stain of the jail 
upon them, the unhappy prisoners, after release, would seek 
in vain for occupation ; and that society would shut the door 
of reformation on them, and compel them, if they would not 
starve, to walk on in the ways of crime. The jail-mark 
branding them as dangerous, men buttoned up their pockets 
when they pleaded for a second trial of their honesty, and left 
them helpless. Then, Thomas Wright resolved, in his own 
honest heart, that he would visit the prisons, and become a 
friend to those who had no helper. 

The chaplain of the New Bailey, Mr. Bagshawe, recognized 
in the beginning the true practical benevolence of the simple- 
minded visitor. On his second visit, a convict was pointed 
out, on whom Mr. Wright might test his power. It was cer- 
tain power. From the vantage-ground of a comparative 
equality of station, he pleaded with his fellow workman for the 
wisdom of a virtuous and honest life. Heaven does, and 
Earth should, wipe out of account repented evil. Words 
warm from the heart, spoken by one whom the hearer trusted, 
were not uttered like lip-sympathy, in vain. Thomas Wriglit 
engaged to help his friend, to get employment for him ; and 
if necessary, to be surety with his own goods for his hono- 
rable conduct. He fulfilled his pledge; and that man has 
been ever since, a prosperous laborer, and an upright mem- 
ber of society. 

So the work began. So earnest, so humble, yet, like other 
earnest, humble efibrts, with the blessing of prosperity upon it. 
In this way, during the last fourteen years, this one man, 
after twelve hours* daily toil, by the judicious employment of 
his leisure hours, restored hundreds to peace. He has sent 
husbands repentant to their wives; he has restored fathers 
to the fatherless. Without incurring debt, and supporting 
a large family on his small means, he has contented himself 
with a bare existence, that he might have clothes and money 
to give, where they were required to reinstate an outcast in 
society. 



I 



THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT. 257 

From the report of the Prison Inspectors of Manchester, 
we make an extract to show some of the results of his labors : 
''Five years ago I was/^ owns a certain G. J., " convicted in 
the New Bailey, for felony, and sentenced to four months' im- 
prisonment. When I was discharged, I could get no em- 
ployment. I went to my old employer, to ask him to take me 
again. He said, I need not apply to him, for if he could get 
me transported he would ; so I could get no work until I met 
Mr. Wright, who got me a place, where I remained some 
time, and I have been in employment ever since. I am now 
engaged as a screw-cutter — a business which I was obliged to 
learn — and am earning nineteen shillings and two-pence a 
week. I have a wife and four children, and but for Mr. 
Wright, I should have been a lost man.-" 

Others tell how they were saved by the timely supplies of 
Mr. Wright's money, which "kept their heads above water" 
till they obtained the trust of an employer. Another, after 
telling his career, adds: "lam now, consequently, in very 
comfortable circumstances j more so than ever I was in my life ; 
I wish every poor man was as comfortable as I am. I am 
free from tippling, and cursing and swearing ; have peace 
of mind, and no quarreling at home as there used to be. I 
dare say I was as wicked a man as any in Manchester. I 
thought that if I could once get settled under such a gentleman 
as Mr. Wright, I would not abuse my opportunity, and all I 
expected I have received. I have got Bibles, a hyinn-book, 
prayer-book, and tracts; and those things I never had in my 
house before, since I was married. My wife is delighted. 
My boy goes to school and my girl also.'' 

Were the spirit of Mr. Wright diffused more generally 
through society, the number of fallen persons who, being res- 
tored with all due prudence to a generous confidence, " would 
not abuse their op'portunity,'' would tell decidedly on the 
statistics of our criminal courts and prisons. To labor as Mr. 
Wright has done, must be the prerogative of few : though all 



258 THE GOOD ALONE AEE GREAT. 

the indolent may note, by way of spur, how much a man, even 
like Thomas Wright, poor, humble, scantily instructed, may 
beget of good out of an earnest will. 



QUESTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATION. 

1. In what respect is Thomas Wright a great man? 

2. In what respect was Thomas Wright a benevolent man ? 



NARRATIVE. 

Elizabeth Fry. — Prominent among the distinguished 
women of England, is Elizabeth Fry ; the friend of the 
prisoner, the bondman, the lunatic, the beggar; who has 
been aptly named " the female Howard.^' Mrs. Fry hardly 
deserves more credit for the benevolent impulses of her 
heart, than for the dignity and urbanity of her manners. 
They were natural, for they were born with her. The daugh- 
ter of John and the sister of Joseph and Samuel Gurney, 
could hardly be else than the embodiment of that charity 
which never faileth, that philanthropy which embraces every 
form of human misery, and that amenity which proffers the 
cup of kindness with an angel's grace. In youth, her 
personal attractions, and the vivacity of her conversation, 
made her the idol of the social circle, and severe was her 
struggle in deciding whether to become the reigning belle 
of the neighborhood, or devote her life to assuage the sorrows 
of a world of suffering and crime. Happily she resolved 
that humanity had higher claims upon her than fashion. 
Her resolution once formed, she immediately entered upon 
the holy mission to which, for nearly half a century, she 
consecrated that abounding benevolence -and winning grace, 
which, in her girlhood, were the pride of her parents and the 
delight of her companions. 






THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT. 259 

Though her eye was ever open to discover, and her hands 
to relieve, all forms of sorrow, it was to the inmates of the 
mad-house and the penitentiary, that she mainly devoted her 
exertions. Wonderful was her power over the insane ! The 
keenest magnetic eye of the most experienced keeper paled 
and grew feeble in its sway over the raving maniac, compared 
with the tones of her magic voice. Equally fascinating) 
was her influence over prisoners and felons. Many a time, 
in spite of the sneers of vulgar turnkeys, and the responsible 
assurances of respectable keepers, that her puree and even 
her life would be at stake, if she entered the wards and cells 
of the prison, she boldly went in amongst the swearing, 
quarrelling wretches, and with the doors bolted behind her, 
encountered them with dignified demeanor and kindly words, 
that soon produced a state of order and repose which whips 
and chains had vainly endeavored to enforce. Possessing 
peculiar powers of eloquence, (why may not a woman be an 
*' orator?") she used to assemble the prisoners, address 
them in a style of charming tenderness all her own, win their 
assent to regulations for their conduct which she proposed, 
shake hands with them, give and receive blessings, return to 
the keeper's room, and be received by him with almost as 
much astonishment and awe as Darius exhibited towards 
Daniel, when he emerged from the den of lions. 

In this way, Mrs. Fry made frequent examinations of the 
prisons in England. She pursued her holy work on the 
Continent, visiting prisons in France, Holland, Germany, 
Denmark, Belgium and Prussia. In the early part of her 
career, she encountered both at home and abroad some rude- 
ness and many rebuffs. But her ever-present dignity, tact, 
and kindness, at length won the confidence and plaudits of 
the great majority of her own countrymen, and of many 
philanthropists and titled personages in other lands. 



260 THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT." 

3. What qualities, or virtues, do you perceive in the character of 
Mrs. Fry, that are most worthy of respect and admiration ? Did 
]Mrs. Fry manifest physical courage ? — moral courage ? — selt-denial ? 

4. Which would exhibit the greater courage, the soldier in going 
forth to the battle-field, armed for deadly conflict, or Mrs. Fry, 
going among raving maniacs, unprotected, and armed with no weapons 
of force? 

5. How does the soldier, on the battle-field, expect to conquer, by 
weapons of force, or moral weapons ? How did Mrs. Fry expect to 
conquer, by moral weapons, or by force ? 

6. Could the common soldier, probably, lay aside all his weapons 
of force, and go in among maniacs, as did Mrs, Fry, and compose 
them and control them, as she did ? Can most persons do as she 
did ? Why not ? 

7. How did Mrs. Fry probably learn to exercise such power over 
these unfortunate persons ? 



VARIED APPLICATION OF RIGHT PRINCIPLES. 

QUESTIONS FOR SPECIAL AND GENERAL REVIEW. 

1. Which is more desirable, that we make progress in science 
every day, or that we make progress in virtue every day ? 

2. What advantage will high attainments in knowledge secure to 

you? 

3. What advantages will habits of self-control — of self-denial — 
of moral courage — of obedience to duty, everywhere, and at all 
times, give you ? 

4. What victories will great strength of body, or great strength 
of mind, aid you to accomplish ? 

5. What victories will a strong and constant love of right and duty, 
help you to accomplish ? 

6. Can any one be truly great who does not gain victories of some 
kind? 

7. Which do you think the higher and nobler method of achieving 
victories, by moral means, or by force ? 

8. Persons who can devise and execute, successfully, great plans 
in business, or great plans in war, or gi'eat plans of government, are 



THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT. 261 

usually considered great. May all such plans show greatness of 
mind, and still not exhibit moral greatness ? 

9. What difference do you perceive between greatness of mind and 
moral greatness ? Which do you think the higher order of greatness, 
greatness of mind, or moral greatness ? 

10. What do you see in the courage, in the motives, in the self- 
denial, and in the objects of the men of Clapham and Kingston, who 
■went to Ireland to relieve the starving, the sick and dying, that 
differs from the courage, the self-denial and objects of the common 
soldier ? 

11. Can any action, or plan, or achievement, be truly great, or 
belong to the highest order of greatness, that is not right ? — that is 
not both good and right ? 

12. Can any person be truly great, who has not learned to conquer 
himself? — who does not, or will not practise self-denial? — who does 
not possess moral courage? — who does not cultivate purity of heart? 
— who does not love others, and seek their welfare ? 

13. Can any one, then, be truly great, who is not good ? 



THE END 



H. COWPERTHWAIT & CO. 5 

CHESTNUT STREET. ABOVE SIXTH. PHILADELPHIA. 

PUBLISH THE FOLLOWING 

VALUABLE SCHOOL BOOKS 



MITCHELL'S SERIES OF SCHOOL GEOGBAPHIES. 

MITCHELL'S PRIMARY GEOGRAPHY. Fourth revised edition (1855). 
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MITCHELL'S INTERMEDIATE OR SECONDARY GEOGRAPHY, with 

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MITCHELL'S SCHOOL GEOGRAPHY AND ATLAS, fourth revised edi- 
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MITCHELL'S ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY AND ATLAS. 

MITCHELL'S GEOGRAPHICAL ftUESTION BOOK. 

MITCHELL'S BIBLICAL AND SABBATH SCHOOL GEOGRAPHY, 

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IN PRKSS : 

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This work, which has been in careful preparation for a long time, will be 
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MITCHELL'S GEOGRAPHIES are in general use in the principal 
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11. COWPERTHWAIT & CO.'S SCHOOL PUBLICATIONS. 

^^^grYeTe^Y^g^ mars. 

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A Treatise on the Structure of the English Language, or the Analysis 
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Mr, Greene's works have been published but a short time ; but, from 
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"THE BEST ENGLISH GRAMMARS EXTANT." 

The Child's History of the United States. 

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H. COWPERTHWAIT & CO.'S SCHOOL PUBLICATIONS 

THE 

SCHOOL HISTOEY 

OF THE 

UNITED STATES. 

BY A. B. BERARD. 

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COLBURN^S ARITHMETICS. 

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BY DANA P. COLBUKN. 

PRINCIPAL OP THE RHODE ISLAND STATE NORMAL SCHOOL. 

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IN press: 

COLBURN'S FIRST BOOK OF ARITHMETIC. 



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